Archive of Our Own

the first time they meet jaehyung is twenty-one. (as of six days ago to be more precise.)

they meet at the local antique bookshop on the edge of town where wonpil works, the shop tends to eternally smell earthly; the scent of fresh rain drizzling down on a pile of wood set up for a campfire, extinguishing the flames. dust shimmers in the air anytime one removes a book from the shelves lining the small shop, the scent of opening a book prickles one’s nose—silence filling the ears. the shop is squished between a rundown parlor and a noodle house, across the street there’s a convenience shop, and just after the stoplight, a chain of fast food places line the street. too much convenience apparently is unfathomable.

the shop as it would seem appears to not quite fit in here, but that’s most of this small town. there was once a time when the shop wasn’t so terribly out of place when it was in the process of being ‘discovered’—or ‘rediscovered’ as wonpil had clarified to jaehyung their second time meeting—by the younger folk who had begun to hang around the area and make it their latest edgy trend of ‘old is now in’. today, the shop gets its glimpse of traffic but pales in comparison to three years prior, thanks to the corporate world opening a giant two-story bookstore the next block over. of course, technology has a huge lending hand in the shop's decline.

“it’s incredible, you know… that a place like this exists here in this excuse of a town,” jaehyung murmurs, barely audible by the chime of the little hanging bell atop the door at the entrance of the shop. wonpil remains silent since he wasn’t exactly meant to hear it—at least he thinks—but he wants to tell him that in fact, this shop has been around long before any of the other shops, before the town had even settled on its own name. for centuries the shop has stood, longer than most people can probably remember, just existing, unchanging, the scent of old but well-preserved books, vanilla and black orchid lingering in the air.

wonpil half expects jaehyung to peer around at the end of the aisle and leave the shop, but he steps around the shelves slowly, observing each book, eyes scanning titles like he knows exactly what he’s seeking. occasionally he reaches out to touch a spine of an aged book with care, or delicately open a book that makes a crackling sound as it opens before returning it to its proper place. he lingers around a while longer and when wonpil catches a glimpse of his expression, he’s smiling – at nothing and no one particular.

“have a good day,” wonpil calls out when he hears the bell clatter and peers out over the desk to see jaehyung pulling the door open to leave. before stepping out into the rain, he turns around, offering a small smile in return.

it’s a week and a half later the next time that jaehyung stumbles into the bookshop, wearing a bright oversized yellow sweater, and his blond hair reminding wonpil of the sunlight that trickles through the windows when he’s opening the shop. however, it’s nine o’clock at night, and though the sun has long since set and gone to sleep, there’s just jaehyung. he catches wonpil’s gaze when he steps inside, shaking off beads of rain from his hair and gives a sheepish smile.

“you’re still open, right?” jaehyung asks, wiping his feet away on the floormat.

“well… i close at nine o'clock, but you’re in at eight fifty-five, you’re welcome to stay a little longer if you’d like,” wonpil says walking in jaehyung’s direction, slipping past him to lock the front door and slide the blinds down.

it’s not the most ideal place to be on a friday night, weird even, wonpil thinks but somehow an hour has almost gone by, and he’s pulled down a collection of his favorite illustrated folktales off of one of the top shelves of the bookcase that stretches the entire length of the back wall.

wonpil dims the light and ushers jaehyung to follow him as they wander toward a small round table tucked in a cozy little nook near the back of the shop. jaehyung hovers above wonpil, looking over his shoulder to take a glimpse at the book.

jaehyung is startled when the clock strikes ten o’clock, hand pressing against wonpil’s shoulder, looking around for wherever the sound came from.

“i should get going, you’re closed and probably want to get home,” jaehyung says, removing his hand off wonpil’s shoulder.

“i locked up the shop already. you’re free to stay longer, remember?” wonpil insists, and pushes the bench out from beneath the table so that jaehyung can take a seat.

jaehyung says nothing and sits down, scooting forward so that he can prop his elbows up on the table and get a better view of the large leather bound book resting in front of their eyes. jaehyung reaches his hand out to touch the book, the leather worn, but well preserved at the same time; the binding is still perfectly intact, strong. there’s a sixth sense that jaehyung feels as his fingers slide across the title engraved into a gold plate on the cover, a feeling that tells him this book is precious and has found its way into the many hands of people before him to enjoy.

“the cover, the binding alone of this book is really kind of incredible,” jaehyung says.

“this particular book is the only one in existence. it was hand-written in 1897,” wonpil tells him. jaehyung quickly withdraws his hands away at that, as if the book may crumble right before them if he strokes the cover one more time. wonpil lets out a soft chuckle and opens to the first page.

“how is it possible that it still looks as new as it does? i would never have imagined that something like this could withstand time, and even if it does succeed, wouldn’t it be fragile and falling apart?” jaehyung is baffled.

“as a bookkeeper, i tend to do some simple repairs when they’re necessary. as far as this particular book, it’s my most valued of all, so i take special care of it. when i finally found it, it just needed some minor repairs within the binding and the back cover, but it was in excellent condition otherwise,” wonpil explains.

“you also do repairs?” jaehyung says more rhetorically.

wonpil doubts that jaehyung honestly cares about the process of book restoration, but he goes into some detail anyway. jaehyung carefully begins flipping through the book, fingertips delicately hovering over the inked lines, over the hand-written words etched into the pages. every so often he looks up, catching wonpil’s gaze to indicate that he’s still listening to him, to let him know to continue silently. wonpil sometimes pauses, as though he’s distracted and stares directly into jaehyung’s eyes. this, of course, doesn’t go unnoticed by jaehyung, but he doesn’t think much of it either.

“that’s really impressive. i would never have the time, nor the patience and care to invest in such a thing like that. i’d definitely fuck up something,” jaehyung laughs, “sorry for my language. let me rephrase that, i would botch it and then i would hate myself forever if i destroyed a thousand-year-old book,” he finishes.

jaehyung had listened to everything, wonpil thinks and resists smiling. “i just like books and how they can take you places. how there’s so much knowledge at our fingertips,” wonpil says quietly and thumbs through more of the pages.

“you talk about books so passionately, almost like the characters inside them can hear you. it’s really cool to see someone still immerse themselves in reading instead of technology,” jaehyung says.

at that, wonpil chuckles and lets the hint of a smile spread across his face. “technology is great too, don’t get me wrong. there’s just something about sitting with a nice cup of coffee or tea and grabbing your favorite book, the way the pages feel against the skin.“

“i get it. i prefer physical books over e-reader books,” jaehyung replies.

they talk for a long time after that. people walk past the shop's windows at night the same way they walk during the day, always in such a hurry to be somewhere. cars speed by while the city hums with the noise of the rain and small echoes of thunder in the distance and all too many things going on at once, yet all the while the two of them sit in the dimly lit shop and talk in soft-spoken words. jaehyung tells wonpil that he used to study political science but that he’s more interested in music (singing and guitar to be exact). wonpil listens, the way jaehyung had listened to him before with great interest.

after jaehyung is done talking about why he loves music so much, the shop is silent, their breaths soft. “i wanted to come back to the shop earlier than this,” he pauses, “i mean, after the first time i visited i wanted to come back again because everything was so beautiful and everything feels peaceful here. it’s hard to describe,” and those words stupidly make wonpil feel happy, makes his stomach do tumbles.

“it’s not too… oh, i don’t know? old-fashioned?” he asks curiously, looking down to examine the folktale book open in front of them, face close to the pages so to hide his smile from jaehyung. of course, jaehyung can see it.

“not really? when i think about it, it seems… timeless,” jaehyung looks around the shop. “yeah, timeless.”

“hmm… i suppose that’s fitting.”

it’s getting close to approaching a week since his last visit when jaehyung decides to pop into the shop, two cups of tea in his hands that he’s picked up along the way here at his favorite cafe near his apartment, which conveniently isn't all that far away. the sun is out today, but the fall temperatures are dropping, and jaehyung’s a bit of a baby when it comes to cold temperatures, even though it’s only 18°c. the tea is the only thing keeping him warm. when he steps in, wonpil bows, and stops and smiles when he realizes who it is. jaehyung extends his arm and offers one of the cups to wonpil who accepts it with surprise in his tone as he says, “thank you.”

“i hope you don’t mind me visiting you,” jaehyung shuffles his feet around.

wonpil isn’t entirely sure where this is coming from, doesn’t see the point when he’d let jaehyung stick around the shop last friday past midnight talking about everything and nothing at all. nevertheless, it oddly makes him smile; it seems jaehyung’s starting to be the cause of most of his smiling these days.

“it’s fine. this is a bookshop after all,” wonpil says nonchalantly.

jaehyung simply nods.

“where did you come across the book?” jaehyung points at the spot on the shelf where the folktales masterpiece is perched, high so that no one can get it down without wonpil retrieving it for them.

“it wasn’t easy to come across,” wonpil begins hesitantly, seeming to choose his words carefully. “i rescued it from a newly constructed library that burned down. as i said last time, fortunately, the book found its way into my hands in good conditions, so there wasn’t much to repair. a large chunk of the books here in my shop were actually from the burned down library. it was lucky that the fire didn’t engulf everything.

“why didn’t the owners of the library claim the books since they owned the building?” jaehyung asks.

“well, that’s because they died,” wonpil pauses for a beat. “it’s a bit of a mystery... but facts say that the library didn’t burn down due to any faulty wiring of the sort—although the news spun it that way—rather that someone intentionally set the place ablaze, knowing full well that the owners were inside. there’s really not enough detail, not enough witnesses, or leads to getting the full truth of the tragedy.

“that’s terrible,” jaehyung says after a while once fully processing the words coming out of wonpil’s mouth. “there should be some sort of justice given to the owners.”

“i guess some things never change…” wonpil heaves a sigh and begins walking along the aisle again.

jaehyung quickly picks his feet up and steps in time beside wonpil again. “why haven’t i heard about this tragedy before?” he asks curiously.

“perhaps you just weren’t looking for it? then again, not all historians know about it. i imagine it’s a tale that’s skipped past the history books because it wasn’t significant. didn’t leave much of a lasting impact,” wonpil shrugs as he turns a corner.

perplexed by the vagueness echoing in wonpil’s tone, he asks as he rounds the corner, “where was the old library located?”

wonpil is silent for a moment, jaehyung can tell he’s thinking. finally, wonpil clears his throat and says, “does it really matter? it doesn’t make a difference anymore.”

apparent that jaehyung has hit a sensitive topic with wonpil, he changes the subject to clear the tension. “how is your tea?”

wonpil looks down at the plastic cup in his hand, lifting it to his lips to take a sip, careful not to burn his lips. he takes one more, licking the excess off and smacks his lips together before he answers, “it’s quite delicious.”

jaehyung smiles, and takes a sip of his own. “i’m glad you like it. there’s a small cafe near my apartment that i stop by almost daily that has the best teas, coffee, and cakes.”

“honestly, i’m not a big black tea drinker. but the subtle hint of spices in here brings a new dimension to it. it’s rather enjoyable,” wonpil lifts the cup to his nose, allowing the steam from the small hole to fill his nose with the scent of robust cloves, almond, and cinnamon.

whether wonpil genuinely likes the tea or is just being nice, jaehyung isn’t certain, but the way wonpil seems fascinated by the smell and flavor makes jaehyung believe that he’s telling the truth. in any case, it makes him happy to see wonpil giving the tea a chance.

“do you ever get bored here when business is slow?” jaehyung asks, noticing only a few other people are in the shop besides him.

“bored?” wonpil says the word like it’s foreign, then he chuckles. “i have my books to occupy me, so being bored is never a problem.”

“that’s a fair point,” jaehyung laughs even though he can’t help but feel sad for wonpil and he’s not entirely sure why.

“i told you before that this place used to be alive, didn’t i?” wonpil says.

“you did. and then larger bookstore chains developed and ran your customers away,” jaehyung finishes.

wonpil nods as he stops in front of the history shelves full of books that contain everything anyone could ever want to know. “i’m never alone here as long as i have my books, jaehyung.”

jaehyung skims the titles on the shelf in amazement. he’s been to many libraries in his lifetime, but he’s never come across some of the titles that line the shelves here in front of him. “you can just call me jae if you’d like,” he blushes.

“jae,” wonpil rolls the name over his tongue. jaehyung’s not sure what he expects but when wonpil smirks, it’s definitely the last thing he’s predicting, and it sends another wave of heat straight to his cheeks. “i prefer calling you jaehyung,” wonpil laughs as they continue in silence sipping their tea.

after a while, the months begin to blend together. they tumble through the rest of fall before wonpil thinks to change his calendar over from october to november. only then does he suddenly realize it’s actually the first day of december, a reminder that christmas and the new year are fastly approaching.

jaehyung has started to visit the book shop more frequently, usually once or twice a week, and occasionally three, each visit typically with different flavors of teas in hand for wonpil to try out. the visits have begun to form into something more substantial, something resembling friendship that jaehyung has grown an appreciation for.

“christmas is around the corner,” jaehyung comments one chilly afternoon wrapped up in one of his thickest beige sweaters, hot tea cupped in his hands to keep them warm as they sit near a window that overlooks the snowy street. “any traditions you hold for the holiday?” he already knows the answer is probably ‘no’ since it’s more of a western holiday than a korean one. wonpil isn’t surprised to find that jaehyung isn’t a native to korea, joking that he knew it the second he met him.

“nah, i don’t usually do anything special,” wonpil says.

“then would you like to do something with me? it doesn’t have to be on a big scale, maybe we can just eat a nice meal, and you can pack up some of your favorite books and bring them to my place so we can discuss them,” jaehyung suggests, heat rushing to his cheeks quicker than he can get the words out.

“hmm…” wonpil ponders, a grin spread across his face. “deal. on one condition, though. you can’t eat and look at my books at the same time,” he teases, grin growing wider. “i don’t need you dropping rice bits or splattering noodle sauce on my fine collection of century-old books.”

“deal,” jaehyung laughs holding his pinky up for wonpil to join his. they seal the deal by stamping their thumbs together.

“so your place on christmas eve?” wonpil confirms.

“is that alright with you?” jaehyung asks.

“as long as it’s after seven o’clock when i shut the shop down,” he replies.

“you’re going to remain open on christmas eve?” jaehyung looks up at him quizzically.

“i always have. you never know who may need a warm place to escape to. those who have no family to visit, or those who don’t celebrate still deserve to have places open. remember, this isn’t america. it’s only recently that we’ve adopted some traditions. but you’ll find most businesses will remain open on your western holidays,” wonpil explains.

“fair enough. forgive me. i’m still adjusting here. it’s my first winter here after all, and i guess i’m still getting used to everything. also, i miss my family. every christmas we celebrate with a huge feast and a delicious large ham,” jaehyung can feel saliva building in his mouth as he begins to imagine the taste of the ham his family will probably cook again this year.

wonpil sits there, as jaehyung continues to talk about the rest of his family traditions and the things he’ll miss. “why don’t you travel back home instead of staying here for the holiday then?”

that’s a valid question, jaehyung thinks—wishing it were that simple. “if i could, i would. i sort of ran away from all my problems at home and made the decision to live here. my parents supported my decision in all of this. but they also said it’s my responsibility to take care of myself if i was really going to leave,” jaehyung responds. “i don’t have the money to go back home right now. besides that, i want to experience winter here. it was my choice to leave. i needed to in order to be the person i want to be and not the person everyone wanted me to become.”

there’s silence for a long while. wonpil looks down at the book resting open in front of him. jaehyung doesn’t believe he’s actually reading the words on the page, rather he seems to be off somewhere else deep in thought. finally, wonpil looks up from over the brim of his thick black reading glasses and opens his mouth to say, “it must be hard for you coming to a new country and not having many people you can lean on. sometimes i feel like an outsider as well even though i’ve lived here my entire life.”

“i’ve got you though, don’t i?” jaehyung looks wonpil in the eyes and lets out the brightest smile that illuminates his entire face.

“of course.”

wonpil doesn’t have a lot of friends these days, he thinks that’s why he’s so appreciative of jaehyung’s company with these regular visits of his. jaehyung is a very simple person to get along with. in comparison to wonpil, who usually has the most difficult time holding a conversation, unable to express thoughts into words the way he wants. jaehyung is the one who’s always able to steer the conversations in the right direction and keep them afloat; he always asks wonpil random little questions, sometimes out of nowhere to fill in the small gaps of silence between them. little acquired pieces of information that are seemingly useless but still special tidbits. the bits of wonpil’s life that are just fun unimportant fractions of what make wonpil who he his.

“what’s your favorite color?”
“black.”

“what’s your favorite number?”
“four.”

“what’s your favorite movie?”
“recently, it’s ‘norwegian wood.’”

“what do you dislike the most?”
“strongly scented foods.”

“are we planning on exchanging presents at christmas?” jaehyung asks after taking a sip of his tea that’s started to get cold. “because if so, then i have absolutely no earthly idea what you’d like. other than books, of course, and you already have an entire collection so i wouldn’t even know where to begin on what you don’t have.”

wonpil chuckles at jaehyung’s slight panic before he says, “you don’t have to get me anything.”

“but i want to. tell me some things that you like,” he says.

wonpil is fond of many things, but most of those things are not things that he would request of someone or things that can be so easily given. he likes the scent of fresh yellow flower buds that sprout from his forsythia plants, he likes the time of the day when the sun begins to set and he sees the streetlights outside slowly flickering on one by one until the street is lit a faded golden color. he likes the way the shop smells anytime that jaehyung visits, the way the air still lingers of tea long after jaehyung has left.

“i like you,” he smiles as jaehyung stares at him, eyes wide open, tears filling to the brim as he dares not blink.

wonpil feels warm and alive, a tingle begins to rush through him. he knows this is a mistake, that this is the beginning of the end.

jaehyung leans in and gives wonpil a quick kiss to his lips.

wonpil smiles, but inside prepares himself for the journey he and jaehyung are about to experience. one that can only lead into a downward stumble.

he kisses jaehyung back as the streetlights outside flicker on and the sun sinks into the earth for the night.

the second time they meet jaehyung is twenty-five.

jaehyung is surprised at how much he’s accomplished in the last four years. for starters, he’s gotten much better about flossing between his teeth regularly after much nagging from his local dentist. although he isn’t perfect, he can also say that he’s immensely improved with his korean. by far the biggest accomplishment, however, is chasing after his dreams of being in a band; for the last three and a half years, jaehyung has been the lead guitarist and vocalist in a small rock band with four other members. sure, they’re not under any huge label, and alright fine, they’re all living in a small apartment to simply afford the cost of living, but they’re a real band with six albums out, and perform all over korea with an actual decent sized fanbase to call their own.

it’s the seventh of september and today marks their bands third anniversary. when one of his bandmates asks for the house lights to be turned on, jaehyung can see all the faces of their fans in the crowd; who he’s not expecting to find third row between him and the other guitarist is one kim wonpil, the same who disappeared before christmas four years ago without so much as an explanation, or a goodbye for that matter. a lump forms in jaehyung’s throat. he swallows hard; blinking once, he continues to skim the room and waves to some of the people in the front row. what he doesn’t do is make eye-contact with wonpil, and it’s definitely him, there’s no way jaehyung couldn’t recognize wonpil, because he looks the exact same. that is of course, except for his clothes, and maybe his hair has grown a little longer. and there’s no doubt that wonpil must also recognize him, because jaehyung too looks almost the exact same as four years prior—maybe a little taller.

jaehyung mentally curses under his breath as the house lights go back down so they can continue their set, only twenty-one more songs to perform. he tries his best to shift his focus back to where he’s at, what he’s doing instead of on wonpil. however, jaehyung is also human and his mind is racing with questions that he tries to bury. he wonders why wonpil is here, and not just back from the dead, but why he’s here at his band’s concert. he wonders if wonpil came by chance not knowing who the people were in the band or if he knew and that’s why he’s here. he wonders if wonpil had no idea, if he's just as surprised to find him up on this stage? there’s so many questions he has to ask, but now is not the time to ponder over them. as if jaehyung isn’t shocked enough, when the room goes pitch black for a moment he suddenly feels nerves rush through him, this strange anxiety creeping into his chest that wants him to show-off, to make wonpil jealous of who it is he left behind.

(and so he does just that.)

how does that saying go? ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder?’ jaehyung isn’t sure if that’s so true, but if it is, then it’s completely and absolutely unfair. why should he even be remotely still fond of the guy that walked out of his life without any warning, as if they’d never met, as if he’d never been there—no footprints to follow. yet there’s jaehyung, still here, still breathless when he spots wonpil walking in the shadows of the night toward their van.

absence makes the heart grow fonder they say, yeah well two is company, but three is a crowd, jaehyung thinks.

“yo, jae, you ready to go?” a voice calls out from behind him. he doesn’t need to look back to know that the voice belongs to his bandmate kang younghyun.

younghyun was there four years ago to pick up the broken pieces of jaehyung when wonpil disappeared. the two had met at a local bar even though jaehyung doesn’t particularly care to drink, even still to this day. but that night four years ago jaehyung drank away the memories of wonpil. younghyun had become someone jaehyung could lean on, someone who had similar dreams about life. so naturally they became friends, then roommates, and eventually, they formed a band. the rest is history.

“everything alright?” arms wrap around jaehyung from behind.

oh, and perhaps younghyun just happens to be the guy jaehyung has been banging for the last four years, no big deal. not to be confused with being his boyfriend. that much is clear. as much as jaehyung can see himself dating younghyun, he has strict rules about dating him in the event that something bad happens between them. he doesn’t want the dynamic of their friendship to be messed up when feelings become involved. not that there isn’t some attachments already, but if jaehyung’s being entirely honest with himself, there is always something… or someone that stops him from caving in on his rules about dating his best friend.

“huh? oh yeah. i’m fine. let’s go,” he says and turns around, not looking back to see wonpil left standing there. he wants to talk to him, but here and now are not the time and place. besides, he’s drained enough as it is from the concert and jumping around for three full hours.

the bookshop remains as it had back then, squished between an old rundown parlor and a noodle house. nothing really ever changes in this small town. jaehyung had visited the shop frequently after wonpil’s disappearance, had visited day after day, week after week, until weeks turned to months. he continued despite having no hope that wonpil would return. something kept him coming back to take care of the shop in wonpil’s leave of absence, no matter how much he hated him. wonpil hadn’t remained there but the bookshop did, unchanging.

this time things are different and jaehyung struggles to push open the doors, knowing that somewhere on the other side wonpil is inside. he takes one more step forward and pushes the door only to hear a rattle. still locked. to be fair, it is five o’clock in the morning and wonpil is probably still sound asleep. it’s been three days since the concert fiasco, but jaehyung can’t help feel a tinge of guilt for ignoring wonpil that night; not that jaehyung of all people should feel guilty after everything wonpil put him through, but it’s how his mind works.

jaehyung slides his hand in his pocket and feels around for a moment before he pulls out a brass key; he slides it in the lock and turns until there’s a click and the door creaks open. he pushes the door further to the same jingle of the bell and the same scent of old books, vanilla and black orchid enveloping around him.

when jaehyung is inside and shuts the door behind him, he’s greeted with silence. there’s no wonpil behind the counter, the lights are off and there’s a slight draft that sends a small shiver down jaehyung’s spine. he hugs himself and walks deeper into the shop. he’s pretty sure he should be angry right now, but instead he feels strangely nervous at the prospect of seeing wonpil again after this much time has passed. nothing makes sense in his jumbled thoughts. there’s so many answers he needs to hear, so much he has to say to him, he just has to figure out where to start. if wonpil is still even in town.

when jaehyung turns the corner near the back of the shop, he sees him. there wonpil sits at the round table with the moonlight shining in, loose pages of paper spread across the table, two mugs sitting on coasters. jaehyung’s sure he should be angry, but his legs wobble with each step he takes, heart racing. he takes a seat at the bench beside wonpil and tosses the brass key. it lands on the paper that rests in front of wonpil.

“you’ll probably want your key back,” jaehyung says after they sit in silence for a moment.

“i don’t usually take back what i’ve given away,” wonpil says, voice the same; however, the tone has changed. there’s sadness that crawls over his lips.

“i won’t be needing it anymore now that you’re back,” jaehyung replies.

“it’s still yours,” wonpil says sliding the key back over to jaehyung. “thank you, by the way… for taking care of the shop in my absence. you didn’t have to, and yet you did anyway.”

jaehyung doesn’t reply back right away. he tries to collect his thoughts as best he can. he recalls the day when everything changed.

“it took me a long while to figure out what the key was for,” jaehyung begins slowly. “that night you didn’t show up. i got scared, thought perhaps something bad may have happened to you. i called your shop but there was no answer. it was too late and cold to make it out there to check on you. so imagine my surprise when i woke up the next morning ready to come here and i find a small box sitting in front of my door with no note attached.”

“...i kn—”

“when i got to the shop there were no lights on, it was like there were no signs of life that day on the streets. the shop was locked up. i stood outside for a solid ten minutes before i realized that the key must belong to the shop,” jaehyung pauses for a second, breathing in before he continues.”i half expected you to be inside, to jump out and surprise me. something to explain your absence from the night before. but you were nowhere to be found. instead, all i found was the letter with no answers that you left on your counter up front.”

‘dear jaehyung,

if you’re reading this then you know that the key i left for you is for the bookshop.
you must be angry with me and i cannot blame you if you are.
i didn’t show up last night, and for that i am sorry.
some urgent unforeseeable things happened that i need to take care of.
i cannot say when i will return or if i will ever return.
i hope you know that i cherish you greatly,
i trust a day will come when we may meet again.
this key belongs to you now,
how you use it is up to you.
one day i hope that you may understand everything.
there is so much i desire to tell you.
just promise me that you will never forget me.
if we may meet, please don’t think too poorly of me.
this is not the way that things should have been; but they are.
have trust in me when i say that i never wanted to hurt you.

p.s. help yourself to the books here,
what’s mine is yours.
may you find some of the answers you seek within the pages.

sincerely, kim wonpil’

“four years,” jaehyung mumbles. “four fucking years that i missed you. one-thousand, four-hundred and sixty-one days that i waited for you. and you show up again as if nothing has changed, as if nothing is wrong.”

“jae—”

“i took over the shop in your absence not because i didn’t want it to become run down like the parlor next door, but because i hoped that one day that bell would jingle and it would be you walking through those doors,” jaehyung sniffs, holding back tears. “i didn’t take care of the shop because it’s important to you, i took care of the shop because being here was the only way for me to remain connected. to still feel alive inside,” jaehyung stops as tears drop onto his cheeks.

“jaehyung… i thought you wouldn’t come back,” wonpil says softly, pushing jaehyung’s hair away from his eyes.

jaehyung lifts his head up slightly, uses his remaining energy to roll his eyes, “i believe that should be my line.”

“...i guess that’s true,” wonpil chuckles. he slides the second mug into jaehyung’s hands.

“didn’t think i would come back…?” he looks down and sees that it’s coffee.

“i didn’t, but i hoped,” wonpil smiles.

wonpil doesn’t mention where he went, what he did or why he had to go. instead, he asks jaehyung about his life since they had last met. even back then, wonpil rarely had offered much information about himself, he would always let jaehyung do a vast majority of the talking. at the time jaehyung never thought much of it, he picked up on a lot about wonpil and felt as though he knew him, if there’s one thing jaehyung is good at it’s observing people. now that he thinks about it though, he doesn’t really know as much as he thought he did about wonpil. for instance, shouldn’t he at least know how old he is, his hometown, does he have any siblings, where he went to school and graduated from? he had shared all those things about himself, and wonpil had taken great interest in jaehyung’s past, especially since jaehyung was a foreigner and seemed to live an interesting life. it was a little weird back then how much wonpil talked about his old books, as if the story of how he came across it was an acceptable replacement, but jaehyung didn’t mind—he found wonpil’s passion for books fascinating and welcomed all the details. however, now he’s annoyed by it when there’s still so many unanswered questions that are far more important than the ‘chronicles of 1903: myths and facts’.

“forgive me,” wonpil lowers his head and mumbles into the palms of his hands.

“...well?” jaehyung inquires; he isn’t willing to let these answers slip by him for a second time.

“incheon—” wonpil begins but stops immediately, seeming to think of what to say next. “incheon is where i was born, but it’s been a really long time since going back,” he answers, each word coming out slowly.

“how come?” jaehyung asks.

“i don’t know, there hasn’t been any real reason to up until now,” wonpil shrugs.

jaehyung looks over to him and nods like he understands because honestly, he does. ever since moving here, he’s only visited home a grand total of two times.

“ulsan—”

“...huh?” jaehyung interrupts.

“ulsan is where i was for the majority of the last four years,” he explains.

“i thought you just said you were in incheon though?” jaehyung asks, confused and scratching at his head, flipping his hair out of his eyes.

“i was, but only briefly; there was meaning behind my trip there, but ulsan is where i needed to be,” wonpil explains, although jaehyung doesn’t really process any of the information.

“sorry, but i’m not following along,” jaehyung apologizes.

wonpil shakes his head, as if to tell jaehyung that he has nothing to be sorry for. “my parents and i didn’t always see eye-to-eye, so up until now i only visited them on special occasions, and even then it wasn’t annually.”

“so what made you decide to go see them this time?” jaehyung asks, trying to fill in the gaps of wonpil’s story.

“not for any reason that i ever expected i’d have to pay them a visit,” wonpil pauses again.

jaehyung doesn’t speak, but motions for him that it’s okay to continue.

“i don’t have any relatives left there anymore,” wonpil finally says, looks up at jaehyung and stares at him intently. jaehyung stares back in silence, as if what he’s just told him is something super important. maybe it is, after all this is the only real snippet of personal information that jaehyung knows about wonpil other than he’s the owner of this bookshop, his name, and that he loves books more than life itself.

“i’m really sorry—” jaehyung is cut off by wonpil clearing his throat.

“you don’t have to be sorry or feel sorry for me. remember we weren’t that close anyway. i had to go pick up their corpses in incheon. they were from ulsan and to respect their memories, i laid them to rest there and got caught up tending to some of their lands that our family has always owned from generation to generation. it took a lot longer than i expected,” wonpil explains.

jaehyung still doesn’t fully understand everything, but he’s starting to. wonpil is finally opening up and that is more than enough for him.

“i just wish you had let me know. i would have completely understood. i could have helped you, you know?” jaehyung replies.

“with all due respect. there would have been nothing for you to help with. it was for the best,” wonpil says. his words seem harsh, but they come out soft and polite.

“i suppose. i just mean that, i wish we hadn’t lost four years between us. i could have written you letters since you don’t own a mobile phone, or i don’t know—things didn’t have to turn out this way,” jaehyung says.

“i’m sorry, i know i could have at least let you in on where i was going. but i didn’t want you to follow. this was something i needed to do for myself,” wonpil acknowledges with sincerity in his voice as jaehyung nods, understanding and not understanding everything all at once.

their second kiss comes four year after their first. jaehyung recalls the first kiss, that it happened. he had been the one to initiate the kiss after all; however he doesn’t remember it with certainty and clarity, it’s been four goddamn long years. all he can remember is that they were in the bookshop, words exchanged, none of which he remembers. wonpil had kissed him back, and when they pulled apart jaehyung felt a spark and wonpil looked more alive than he had ever seen him, color shining across his face—or perhaps that was just the silhouette of the lights shining in from the windows that night.

wonpil is smiling—scratch that—grinning a little when they pull apart, touching at the spot on his lips lightly with the tips of his fingers. “tea,” wonpil murmurs and jaehyung isn’t quite sure if he heard him correctly.

“hmm?”

“that night we were drinking tea just like now,” wonpil clarifies shyly as he remains leaning in close to jaehyung, he can feel wonpil’s breath on his skin, strangely it sends shivers down to his toes. or maybe it’s not strange, it’s below 2°c outside and the floor heater wonpil owns can only emit so much power to warm up the entire shop.

“well,” jaehyung looks away. “i don’t remember. we were always drinking tea.”

his mind doesn’t bother to focus on that single moment from four years ago, that barely there, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it-moment. he’s now twenty-five, going on twenty-six and wonpil has only been a small, inconsistent part of his life for less than four months; why should that single detail, that specific moment in time be any more significant than all of the hundreds and thousands of other things jaehyung had experienced in the space left between them. the gap that was left open when wonpil decided to go and leave him out of the picture.

wonpil kisses him again, harder this time, whispering his recollection of that kiss right onto jaehyung’s parted lips. he reminds jaehyung with every graze of their lips, every stroke of his fingers to his face, until jaehyung can remember what they were wearing that night, what book they were reading, how the weather was outside; he even recalls the exact tea he had purchased that day, the scent, the flavor of tea and wonpil’s lips combined onto his. how bittersweet wonpil tasted, uncertain if it was him or the tea, none of it mattered; nothing mattered at all except for in that moment, wonpil was his and only his.

“you’re really horrible, you know that?” jaehyung mouths between kisses. “i really liked you,” he pulls apart, “then you vanished into thin air.”

he remembers how angry he was back then. how lost, hurt, confused, upset and a jumble of other emotions he felt had washed over him. he’s still all of those emotions, but he assumes that has an explanation too. he still helplessly likes wonpil, no matter how much he hates him.

wonpil pulls away from him and then looks down slowly, contemplating, “sorry i’m not a better person.”

“everytime we meet, you’re so different,” wonpil tells him, whispering against his exposed collarbone. under the sheets and thick blanket, his body feels warm, but his fingertips that glide across jaehyung’s cheek are cool to the touch.

“the hell is that supposed to mean,” jaehyung asks, sounding a little more defensive than he intends it to come out. he almost pulls away, but he can’t bring himself to do so, and instead, he relaxes into wonpil’s body pressed firmly against his own. wonpil nuzzles his nose into the crook of jaehyung’s neck, breath ghosting over soft pale skin, lips obediently dancing over every precious centimeter with delicacy.

being with wonpil—really being with him, unadulterated—is terrifying to put it simply. the first time they’d met things hadn’t been so scary; it’d been comfortable and easy. it had felt as though time stopped just for him when they were together, all his worries washed away. this time feels different—is different. their time together now is tattered and scarred by the way wonpil had so easily and abruptly left last time. how he could so easily leave him in just a few short written sentences. jaehyung had learned that wonpil had done a lot of traveling in the four years he’d been gone and didn’t stay immobilized in ulsan. he’d gone to japan, hong kong, namibia, morocco, spain, norway, denmark, canada and even as far as chile, brazil and argentina, that’s what he told him late that night in the bookshop after jaehyung had time to process everything a little more. he’d traveled all over the world, drifting from country to country without any purpose or reason, simply just because.

it sounded a lot to jaehyung that he never stayed in one place for very long, and that is a worrying sign. all that matters now is that he’s back, he has returned, but jaehyung can’t help but wonder how long he has left with him before he decides to leave again. wonders if it’s weeks or months, or would he stick around for good. something deep inside jaehyung tells him that’s wishful thinking and highly unlikely. he can’t help but linger on the thought though, partly nervous, partly excited, but mostly a lot of anxiety.

wonpil’s hands slide down from jaehyung’s face, trace along his collarbone, and dip under the covers to swirl over along the soft edges of jaehyung, he wraps his arms around his frail, lean body and pulls him in close against him. jaehyung squirms against wonpil, surprised by the cold touch of wonpil’s fingers grazing against the nape of his neck.

“you never fail to amaze me every time that i see you. it feels like i’m falling in love with you all over again, loving more and more of you each time,” wonpil whispers in jaehyung’s ear.

jaehyung’s breath hitches in the back of his throat, and he can hardly breathe for a few seconds. he wiggles under the blankets, shyly looking up to meet wonpil’s eyes. his voice cracks when he finally finds the words to say. before he has a chance to think clearly, the words tumble out of his mouth of their own volition.

“how long are you staying this time?”

“hm?” wonpil doesn’t catch the barely audible words that slip out of jaehyung’s mouth.

“you’re thinking about leaving again, aren’t you?”

wonpil blinks at jaehyung once and then twice, the smile fades from his face, and his mouth falls open soundlessly before he comes to and shakes his head. somehow jaehyung doesn’t believe him, he can see through wonpil and doesn’t feel any reassurance, no sense of relief.

“i want to stay,” is all wonpil says as he leans in, foreheads knocking into each other, touching his nose to jaehyung’s before he closes his eyes.

jaehyung really truly wants to believe wonpil because, in spite of every sign and the past, everything wonpil says and does feels genuine and real. he wants so badly to believe every word, and though he half does, his mind tells him that their time is limited. his heart speaks louder, with wonpil’s every word, every kiss, every touch and all his affection. he deeply believes that this time is different, ignoring his mind screaming at him. he closes his eyes and kisses wonpil hard on the lips. jaehyung knows that he doesn’t know everything, hell much of anything really, about wonpil but what he does know, he knows with absolute certainty.

jaehyung knows that he loves wonpil.

he kisses wonpil again, deeper with more meaning, letting a frustrated moan escape from his drying lips. he wants to trust wonpil, needs him to know that he’s not fooling around—he’s full in if wonpil is. an unknowingly strong feeling begins to root deep inside jaehyung, festering until jaehyung knows he’s right. it’s clear to him now that wonpil suspects his hesitancy to fully ever trust him. the sad fact of the matter is that with every warning sign, jaehyung blindly trusts him and doesn’t get the same reassurance that he desperately craves in return.

“stay with me,” jaehyung squeaks as he breaks apart from the kiss. “if you disappear again i don’t think i could forgive you for that. i don’t think i could handle losing you again.”

the third time they meet jaehyung is thirty-two.

wonpil hadn’t disappeared entirely or abruptly but he eventually had to leave, and when he did he had been gone for two years. the four and a half years in between he came and went, never gone for more than a week or two at most. jaehyung had told him the day that wonpil announced he’d be leaving again for quite some time that he wouldn’t wait around for him. wonpil had smiled at that, had told him that was okay and that he deserves someone better, someone that fit his lifestyle more. jaehyung slapped him and hugged him goodbye, tears filling to the brim of his eyes, but never falling. jaehyung would not cry for wonpil, not this time.

things are different this time around while wonpil is gone. jaehyung had bought him a phone and set it up for international calls and texting, although service always seems to be bad on wonpil’s end and conversations are usually cut off. wonpil sends postcards and letters on cute stationery from every country he stops in, and on occasion, jaehyung will write him back. it isn’t that simple though; every few months wonpil’s address changes again, from milan and greece to the united states for a month and the maldives for two. jaehyung is always scared the mail will arrive too slow to reach wonpil before he darts off to the next country. he jokes around over the phone about how he needs to add a technology for dummies guide to his collection of books and learn how to set up an inbox so that they can email. wonpil laughs over the line, and it’s refreshing to hear. god does jaehyung miss him. but nothing lasts forever.

jaehyung sets his phone down on the bed after the call ends and younghyun rolls over, arms wrapping around him asking, “how is he?”

“he’s the same,” jaehyung replies rolling over.

“where’s he at this time?” younghyun asks curiously.

“locked away in some condo in barbados,” jaehyung laughs.

“wow… i’m jealous. i know that we tour a lot and have been fortunate enough to see the world, but to just be able to travel for no reason at all the way he does is really fascinating,” younghyun replies.

“it is.”

“you miss him, don’t you?” younghyun says, noting the way jaehyung looks at him but is clearly off distracted somewhere else that he can reach—here but not his, not yet.

“it’s whatever. i told him i wouldn’t wait, and besides, he knows i’m with you. are you jealous?”

“that there’s always going to be another guy that you miss when you’re with me, that you think about when you’re with me, and that has bewitched your heart? nah, not at all, park jaehyung,” younghyun, pulls him in closer and kisses him firmly, kisses him the rest of the night until the sun shines through the curtains and their bodies are a tangled mess under the sheets that stick to their bodies.

jaehyung isn’t exactly sure how they got here. but at some point, after wonpil left he stopped worrying so much about what could happen to their band if he were to give in and date younghyun. after all, he’d already banged him multiple of times and nothing had happened. eleven years in total now and younghyun has been the one constantly good thing in his life, unjudging and always there for him to pick up the pieces. he’s not even sure if they’re actually dating, there was never one specific moment where they cemented their relationship. all jaehyung knows is that for the last two and a half years younghyun has been by his side. he doesn’t need their relationship to be defined by labels to know that what they have going on is equally both a good thing and also extremely unhealthy and unfair. jaehyung knows he’s terrible, knows that he doesn’t deserve younghyun, doesn’t deserve him in his bed every night filling in the emptiness that fills jaehyung’s heart. what they have is genuine, and lord knows that younghyun is his best friend and that he loves him, or at least loves the thought of loving him. he wants to love him, he really does.

he’s perhaps surprised to see him, probably mostly surprised because as usual wonpil has shown up without any warning. if he shows any surprise it’s by the slightest drop of his mouth falling open. his eyes twitch as he signs his first solo album and below he neatly writes his new number and address. the new number a recent change due to the leak of his old one and fans calling him, and the address to a larger two bedroom apartment that he and younghyun live in together, the remaining three staying at their old address. wonpil smiles and nods as if he understands. it’s hard to tell if he’s happy, angry or irritated to see wonpil again, probably a mixture of all three and a hint of nervousness and too many other feelings tangled inside to wrap his thoughts around.

their time is short as jaehyung can’t spend more than a couple of minutes with him. there’s an overwhelmingly impressive line wrapping around the store. it was definitely a cowardly move of him to make to come and see jaehyung this way, but wonpil also never claimed to be brave. he mumbles a few more words, says he’ll be sticking around for a while and that he’ll be in touch before he thanks jaehyung, fingers unlacing out from between his and picks up the album, clutching it to his chest as he steps away from the table for the next person in line to take their turn. he looks back at jaehyung, a faint smile present. but jaehyung is no longer looking at him.

he finds a small table tucked away at the back of the store and watches as jaehyung talks and smiles and laughs with his mouth wide open; he watches him put on ridiculous hats, glasses, ears and accept every present with the most enthusiastic smile spreading across his face as he thanks every single person before signing their albums. it’s like looking inside of a store window at all the beautiful clothes, jewelry, shoes, you name it. jaehyung was so close to him but there was a barrier between them, a glass window that wonpil had put up and couldn’t seem to break, not without shattering everything precious to him.

“you never change, do you?” jaehyung pushes his fingers through wonpil’s hair that’s grown out again since the last time he saw him. it’s true. so unbelievably true that it almost stings. wonpil pulls back, shifting his body a little and looks up at jaehyung with a smirk.

“so we are pretending that no time has passed; that time stopped for us?” wonpil teases.

“shut up,” jaehyung shoves him against the bookshelf so hard that one of the books beside them falls to the floor. “you have got to be fucking kidding me. you think that we can pretend that two and a half years haven’t gone by?”

wonpil’s smirk fades, but he doesn’t stop smiling, not for one second.

he swears he hates him.

jaehyung kisses him against the bookshelf in wonpil’s dimly lit shop, the clock strikes midnight. the place smells like spring in winter time, outside the traffic lights blink, a car every now and then roaring by the windows. it takes jaehyung back to when they first met, the night that wonpil had allowed him to stay even though he was closed. some things never seemed to change, but their kisses have without a doubt changed.

he knows that he’s half the equation, so wonpil figures that it’s possible he has changed a little as well, or he tries to in any case, has to so that perhaps he might be able to blend into jaehyung’s life.

for a while he does, and for that duration of time everything is right again—they are good, no, they are great. time is suspended and wonpil is there, unchanging and existing, breathing the same air as him.

jaehyung doesn’t deserve younghyun, but younghyun didn’t seem to mind too much, seems to know something more than him. at the end of it all, jaehyung still comes home to him, so younghyun tells him to enjoy whatever limited time he has with wonpil. jaehyung cried in younghyun’s arms on that night, leaving thank you’s across his lips before crawling out of bed and slipping on his coat. he could never begin to understand why younghyun is so good to him, what he sees in him. jaehyung slipped into the frigid air and trekked to the bookshop, a quarter to midnight.

like a damn fool.

for the next three years wonpil comes and goes seven times. he’s here for half a year and gone the other half. he comes back for eight months and is gone again for four, there five and gone for seven. this goes on until he’s back and it’s christmas eve, wrapping the thickest scarf around jaehyung’s thin neck.

jaehyung stands still staring at him as coolly, calmly and collected as he can manage, but he finds it hard to stop frowning. it brings him back to that first christmas eve that he waited outside for wonpil to show and he never did. this is the first christmas eve that wonpil is actually here.

wonpil is tempted to kiss the frown away, but by now he’s learned his lesson and knows better.

“hi.”

wonpil is in love with him the most the first month of his return, and jaehyung is brooding, silent and angry the entire first week.

wonpil divides, counts and sections off their time together and apart obsessively, tracing every memory in his mind like a pattern, carefully stitching together every memory they had ever made, like the pattern and stitches that make up the wool scarf wrapped around jaehyung’s neck.

“i fucking missed you so damn much, you idiot,” jaehyung says as they stand outside on the balcony of jaehyung’s apartment. younghyun has returned to canada to visit his family. he had told jaehyung as he was leaving that he deserved to ring in the new year with someone he loved.

it’s new years eve and fireworks have already begun to shoot off, assortments of colors shining brightly in the clear night sky.

“i missed you, too,” wonpil says in return. jaehyung finally looks at him, let’s wonpil see him, take him in.

honestly, jaehyung is still angry, but he doesn’t know how to be cool about anything—that’s just not him. he burns when he’s angry. it’s perfect really because wonpil is always just a little bit cold. jaehyung’s hands pressed up against the side of his face are warm as they rest there against the bed kissing, he rolls over on top of wonpil, and his mouth is hot.

wonpil’s body naturally goes from cold to cool and then from warm to hot. these moments that they spend together, just the two of them, hot and sticky under the tangled up blankets, breathe life into him.

to be fair, it’s perfectly okay that jaehyung is angry. he should be angry, wonpil thinks, he knows how horrible he’s been. he’s more than well aware of the fact that he’s given jaehyung much of nothing in return; his affection is as hollow as a drum. his words as timed as the beating in jaehyung’s chest and heart as cold as the clouds of his breath against his lips. wonpil brushes the hair back from out of jaehyung’s face, reaching up to cup his hand to his tiny puffed out cheeks. wonpil pulls jaehyung down, pushing him to the mattress and rolls on top of him to gain control. he kisses him with parted lips, licks at the edges and nibbles reddened marks down along his neck.

jaehyung claws at his back, nails scratching in desperation, fingers dig deep into wonpil’s shoulders with deliberate force, struggling to leave any marks or bruises to his beautiful pale skin. it’s not long until he peeks, back arched and comes all over wonpil’s stomach in messy spasms. he falls back down against the mattress, wonpil falls on him, and for a while they lie there glued together. wonpil nuzzles in close to jaehyung, releasing a sigh of satisfaction into his ear.

“why don’t you stay?” jaehyung says when wonpil returns from his turn to take a shower.

wonpil peers out from behind the towel he’s using to dry his hair off, little beads of water dripping down his forehead. he’s still exposed, and this feels natural, jaehyung thinks as he sits with his back pressed against the headboard of the bed. in his hands he fiddles with the beige scarf wonpil had brought him, pries at the stitching and knots until finally one of his fingers pokes through a little space between.

“hm?” wonpil says, setting the towel down and picking up his clothes from off of the chair.

“i mean i want you to stay the night here, with me. if you’re just planning to go back to that small cold space above the bookshop that you call liveable, then what’s the point of leaving at all. just stay with me for tonight.”

wonpil smirks, adjusting the waistband of his boxer-briefs and climbs back into the bed, curling himself snug against jaehyung, linking their fingers together under the covers. his hands soft and warm in his clutch.

they talk about the places wonpil has traveled to and the places jaehyung has traveled to. in their lifetime, they’d traveled all over the world.

“we should have been traveling together,” jaehyung says softly against wonpil’s lips.

“how long do you plan to stick around this time,” jaehyung randomly asks, enjoying the time he’s spent with wonpil, growing tense never knowing how long this feeling will last. doesn’t want to get attached to the delusion forming in his mind of wonpil staying for good.

it’s jaehyung’s birthday, he’s now thirty-six. somehow fifteen years have gone by in the blink of an eye. younghyun throws a small party to commemorate the evening; the band, a few close friends and of course wonpil, surprisingly still here. wonpil tenses as the camera in front of them flashes. although he’s gotten better with cameras and pictures, he’s still not overly fond of them. anything for jaehyung though, as he’s at least attempting to make an effort to try and fit in.

“um…” he’s not certain that he’s any better in answering this question than he was eleven years ago, that first night they’d shared together in bed, and jaehyung’s words that were desperately pleading for him to stay. that desperation is still there, but it’s subtle. wonpil only knows because it’s jaehyung.

“i can’t make any promises,” is all wonpil says, knowing it’s not the answer jaehyung seeks.

“you’re the worst, kim wonpil.”

wonpil deserves that.

wonpil doesn’t keep or break any promise. he had made no promise at all and jaehyung knows that wonpil is going to do whatever he wants, and he can’t stop him from drifting off to paris or china. he tells himself that at least it’s only a couple months at a time, and after all their trial and error wonpil has stayed on top of emails. but it’s still unfair.

“i can’t fucking do this anymore,” jaehyung cries out late one night after wonpil returns from his short two week trip to taiwan. “i can’t fucking do it, wonpil. it’s getting too damn hard.”

he’s still flushed and warm underneath the sheets of wonpil’s bed, but wonpil is pulling away, retracts his cool fingertips back from where they rest against jaehyung’s bare chest. he sits upright and is silent. always silent. he pulls his legs up close to his chest and wraps his arms around them, hands folding together. he rests his chin against his knees and lets out a small sigh. jaehyung looks over at him, waiting for something—anything, but he remains there, hands folded over his legs, holding back, always holding something from him. he’s not sure why he even bothers trying to pull secrets out of wonpil, it’s like he’s digging into an endless abyss.

it’s fine. he has all the answers he needs, he doesn’t need him to speak.

“are you going to even try to change my mind?” wonpil finally says looking back over to jaehyung.

“is it even possible?” jaehyung scoffs. “some things just can’t change. you… can’t change.”

jaehyung honestly wonders why either of them has bothered trying these last sixteen years, if either of them are really trying at all. at first they had, but now he’s not so sure. he curls and turns his back to wonpil who remains so still that he may as well be dead.

“i hate that the most about you,” jaehyung says pulling the sheets up just under his chin and closes his eyes.

in the middle of the night he feels wonpil’s arms stretch out and pull him in close. the truth is, jaehyung hates himself more for how much he still doesn’t hate wonpil at all when he has every right to. he let’s wonpil cuddle him until morning comes because it’s all he knows how to do.

the morning comes and wonpil apologizes for the night before, and the night before that. for missing jaehyung’s thirty-seventh birthday, explains that he tried to make it back in time, that he wanted to. jaehyung doesn’t care anymore. it doesn’t make a difference at this point.

the weather grows colder and snow blankets the town. jaehyung thinks maybe he’s being spoiled by having wonpil around on christmas eve three years in a row. it’s impressive for his track record. they share hot cocoa made with hot water snuggled up in the small nook of the bookshop, a book laid out in front of them, as wonpil reads and jaehyung listens, always listening.

wonpil walks him home and gives him a goodnight kiss, an empty promise on his lips.

the snow starts to melt, the weather goes from cold to warm until it’s hot and burning — and then the heat wears off, and everything cools down again. the next time wonpil leaves, jaehyung doesn’t expect he’ll ever see him again.

“come home,” jaehyung gets an incoming text and looks down to see the message from younghyun.

jaehyung smiles, still unsure of what younghyun sees in him after all this time.

christmas eve comes and goes, wonpil doesn’t return.

there are times over the following years where jaehyung thinks he sees glimpses of him at night when he and younghyun walk the streets—passing by the bookshop, fingers linked together, uncertain if it’s his mind or eyes playing tricks on him. if wonpil is there, he doesn’t make himself noticed, and maybe that’s for the best jaehyung thinks, pondering over the last couple decade of his life. time felt like it stopped when he was with wonpil, but that was a lie; time was not unlimited, and jaehyung couldn’t wait forever. he doesn’t visit the bookshop frequently anymore even though it remains open, he still has the brass key from many years ago, but he lacks the courage to go back there. he looks down at the small silver band on his left ring finger, a bittersweet smile spreads across his face and fades as quickly as the memories of days gone by.