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The blue ocean beneath Jeongguk’s feet made him want to allow the tears to fall from his eyes, dive into the waves and mix with the salty substance that smiled at him with greed. Most people thought of the sea as a good place, where the beaches were and the heat of the day could be battled against. The place where the fish swam and friends met. The place where happy memories were made, filling a never-ending photographic film inside one’s head, and leaving behind nothing but pure content.
It was different for Jeongguk. The sea always made him want to cry. It brought back too many memories. The laughter, the screams, the fights. Everything so vivid in his mind – as if he had just lived through them, one by one – making him want to scream until his throat felt dry. Throbbed in pain. Hurt like hell.
He was sitting on a wooden bridge, the same one from all those years ago. He was gazing at the horizon, admiring the beauty of the awakening sky. He was fidgeting with his hands, a nervous habit he had always had. He was asking himself many questions, too many to catch. But one of them kept coming back in the same way that the waves, beneath his feet, did everytime the sea tried and failed to retreat.
Was he happy now?
This question was the one that resonated the most inside his mind, the loudest scream in the mass of bodies living in his brain. No matter how much time passed, how many people came and went, Jeongguk never seemed to be able to forget about him. It was always him. His start and end point. Him, who had given Jeongguk a home when he had nothing; him, who kept Jeongguk safe and happy; him, who sacrificed himself just to see a little smile poking out of Jeongguk’s mouth… Him. Just him. He, who had been Jeongguk’s whole universe for the longest of time. He, who went by the name of Min Yoongi. His first real friend, his first kiss, his first love.
Maybe that was why Jeongguk could not stop himself but wish him happiness, the best in the world. He had meant too much, still did, to the point that his ghostly memory managed to bring tears to Jeongguk’s big eyes up to this date. Quite pathetic, the young man thought. But that was what love did to one, he thought too.
Jeongguk chuckled. The sound was not genuine at all, broken instead and a little ironic. He was laughing at himself, already sensing the quick approach of tears. A little similar to the calm before the storm.
Jeongguk still didn’t quite know the reason Yoongi managed to have so much power over him. After all these years and his image still haunted him, like a dead vampire – skin so white – that never finished vanishing in the mist. The only difference was that the man still lived, as far as Jeongguk’s concerned. If anything, he could have attempted to end his life. He had done that in the past quite often, so it shouldn’t surprise him. It had been a recurring theme in their relationship; the fights gravitating around that topic, Jeongguk always crying and Yoongi always out of his mind.
Broken glass, the smell of alcohol, the sound of the screeching cries of tires, a burning piano… Those were the things Jeongguk often saw when he came back to this place. The memories, the nightmares, what still kept him awake in the dead of the night when all slept and he cried like a child.
Jeongguk sighed. Too many thoughts, too many thoughts.
This was why he never came to visit the sea. He was constantly reminded of his regrettable loss every time he tasted the salty air and heard the seagulls’ mocking cries invading his ears. He really disliked the beach. He hated this port. Why was he here again?
Ah, right.
Jeongguk exhaled slowly, trying to calm down his anxious heart. The gust of wind that came from his nose contrasted with the cold autumn breeze that slapped his mouth.
Their anniversary, he thought.
This was their fifth birthday, in a way. Or it would have been if they had still been together. A pity that they didn’t talk anymore. They had stopped a long time ago. So long ago that Jeongguk couldn’t actually remember when had been the last time he saw Yoongi. Maybe on the way home from school one afternoon? When he had been walking towards their bubble, a week after their fight, and caught a glimpse of minty hair before it disappeared forever? Yeah. That had probably been the last day he saw him before the older man went out of his life completely.
Jeongguk still missed him.
Neither of them, really, knew when things started to go wrong. They had been young, wild and in love. Jeongguk had run away from his home at being rejected by his parents, who didn’t comprehend him and his motives to love Yoongi. He went to the elder after that, at the age of sixteen, and settled in with him. Yoongi made space for Jeongguk, was happy to have him in his small home; a messy motel room that could only fit two. Jeongguk actually helped it feel cosier, closer to the home he also had abandoned once upon a time. When he escaped from an abusing father whilst he kept trying to retain a clean image of his lost mom.
They made precious memory in that little home-like room. They cuddled, laughed, ate and spent secret and intimate nights giggling and making each other “Mine.”
It felt like a small paradise for a moment. But, eventually, everybody has to be kicked out. And it really broke their hearts once they realised they had been exiled as well. The realisation was accompanied by alcohol being spilt on the wooden floor, a blunt shovel and a fist to a cheek. That was how everything ended. Quick and easy, but not really.
Jeongguk still thought about him.
It was almost like his ghost, the memory of Yoongi that had been left in his mind. He followed him everywhere he went – like a trauma – and did everything Jeongguk did. At times, he managed to suppress him and live normally for a while; pretending he was another, common, young man. He managed to laugh and smile with friends that had been completely new, different from the ones he had had in the past. Ever since high school, Jeongguk had not seen any of them either. They were as absent as Yoongi’s warmth.
On other occasions, Jeongguk wasn’t able to shake away the melancholy injected to his bloodstream. Those were the times he walked and walked, never dared to stop. He would have ran, but his feet still had to recover from the race they had lost some time ago. Life, eventually, caught up to him, to all of them. They had been nothing but fools. Time spat them in the face, such a warm greeting from adulthood...
It was almost a tradition for Jeongguk to come to the sea on this day. He didn’t know why he did such a thing, why he forced the tears and obliged his mind to recall. It hurt more than breathing black fire. It hurt. Maybe as much as it did when he had to watch as Yoongi deteriorated and destroyed himself. But he still did it. Every single year. A tribute to the love that had been buried under clockwork tics. A tribute to his stitched heart and scarred mind. A tribute to the love he missed and longed so badly even after this eternal storm.
Their lives had not been like this all of the time, though. There had been happy parts. Small bursts of joy in their cloudy nights. Jeongguk still remembered waking up and falling asleep in Yoongi’s embrace. He still remembered the cosy bonfires by the beach or their hidden place, next to their other friends, fainting faces now, and the little games they played when it was only about them. The two of them against the vast universe, as it had always been.
But the fights had been strong too. The alcohol. The shadows resonating against the walls of their skulls… Whispers that attacked the mind had never been good. Jeongguk’s mother used to call him sick whenever he mentioned them. His father ignored their existence and Jeongguk’s too, as he had always done (especially when there was another to give this spare love to). Only did Yoongi ever understand him. He also had too many voices living in the place that was designed for one. They shared their fears because of that. The agonising air, the dense surface that their heads never managed to break… They understood perfectly. Just two losers, kissing at the break of dawn, and pretending their world wasn’t on fire when they slept at night.
Their love had been complicated, just like a puzzle, a sudoku given to a mind that had never completed one. Their love had been trembling too. Their feelings had been clear since the beginning. Jeongguk loved Yoongi, Yoongi loved Jeongguk. Perhaps to the point that love did no longer suffice to place inside these four, bold, letters all the things they felt towards the other.
But life, Jeongguk thought with a sigh, sucked. There was no shortcut. No trick he could use to ease the ache. No cure for the nameless illness he carried in his body as if it were another head. Life was merciless, harsh; a storm that tried to flood his ship and sink it to the depth of the sea. And one could only take a certain amount of items when they fled from an orange piece of wood. Yoongi, sadly, had not been one of the possessions Jeongguk took with him.
He still wondered why he cared so much. He could still have been in love, maybe. But, it wasn’t fair (life was unfair). It made him sick. He was sick. He wondered if it would be easier to end it all with a small, tiny, leap…
“Jeongguk?”
It had only been the wind. The moment Jeongguk turn around, with an accelerating heart, he managed to catch a glimpse of nothing. Just a plastic bag suspended in the air, floating aimlessly, almost falling into a dark abyss, did he manage to see.
It was official, he told to himself. He was beginning to slip into madness; imagine voices that were not even there, whispering his name as if it were the last message that the breeze carried. He exhaled softly, releasing the air that had been stuck in his chest for too long. It was alright. He was alright… No. Not really.
Jeongguk had always considered funny how emotions worked. First, you were at the peak of the world, watching everything with profound fascination and wonder. But a second later, you were at the very bottom of the sea, where the oil formed and magma boiled. Jeongguk felt like that. His limbs began to tremble. The back of his throat felt too tight, too hot. He started to cry.
He knew it was useless. What had occurred had already been lost in the distant past. But memory could be cruel. It had the power to repeat a scene over and over inside one’s head. Nevermind how long ago it had actually occurred. Pictures were eternal when stored in a place that never shut down.
The tears rolled and dived into the water, just as the rest of Jeongguk wanted to do. Maybe, it would hurt less. Maybe the cold, salty substance wouldn’t feel as piercing as the imaginary voice he had heard. Perhaps oblivion was not that bad. Nothing would ever have the power to hurt him again. Not if he closed his eyes and forgot.
“Jeongguk.”
This time, it was softer. This time, it lingered in the air. Almost tangible, at the fainting reach of his fingertips…
He turned left, the side he had not observed, and met the very image that he did not know if he wanted to see. Tall, but not too much; broad; sharp; raspy; black. Black. Not mint or pink. Black, like the sky and secrets and funerals. Black, a little like his and Jeongguk’s shared heart.
Jeongguk did not dare to say anything, neither to stare for too long. As soon as he recognised the doomed voice, he looked away and stared directly into the sea. He didn’t know if he was ready, after so many years, to meet as casually as this. He suddenly felt pathetic. It had been ages. Surely, there was no more remorse within them. No more sadness, no more feelings. But Jeongguk’s heart still raced in his chest. Jeongguk’s cheeks still adopted the shades of sunset. Jeongguk still felt. Jeongguk still…
“What are you doing here?” he asked, still looking ahead, no sign in his voice to expose the strong beats of the clock that lived in his chest.
“Jeongguk.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” he rubbed his eyes, made more tears mix with the cool day, “Go away. I want to be alone.”
“Jeongguk.”
“What!?” he finally looked at the other man, who was now standing closer to him and to this idiotic bridge that had been shared by the two of them once upon a dream. Now, it was nothing more than rotting pieces of wood. A broken promise, which had looked so real all those years ago.
In a way, standing now on the same bridge, with Yoongi looking at him in a way that he had not been looked at for so long, obliged all of these things to come back. The photographs, one by one, were revealed from the film that stored them. One by one, he started to see again, to recall; both the pain and the joy with a fragmented soul and teary eyes.
He had not changed, not too much. But his hair colour was different. No more strange colours that had caught the attention of the world on his head. No longer flamboyant or desperate for a drop of pity, a bit of love. The rest, however, remained, more or less, the same. The same eyes, the same nose, the same lips. He was the Yoongi that lived in Jeongguk’s mind. The same man he had loved, and maybe still loved now.
“Aren’t you going to answer?” he asked, fumes exiting from his ears. Yoongi remained quiet. He stared at Jeongguk, as if he were a new species from which he had never heard, and thought. Jeongguk could almost hear the confused whirl of voices and ideas rotating in his head. It would drive them both even madder.
“Were you crying?” was the first thing Yoongi said to him, making it feel as if all of these years had not passed at the pace of a melting snail. It almost felt as if they had seen each other yesterday or even today. However, the air remained heavy and filled with questions, too many to count; more than there were stars in the sky.
“Do you even care?” Jeongguk spat, voice filled with bitter venom and bile.
“Maybe I do,” Yoongi said quietly. The other one scoffed at such a remark.
“But you didn’t when you needed to. Leave me alone, Yoongi, just as you’ve always done.”
There were too many questions Jeongguk wanted to ask him. Why was he here today? Why he had left that day and never came back? Why he still couldn’t leave his mind?
Jeongguk wanted answers. He needed them as much as he needed oxygen or food to survive. He wanted to know. He had to know. He had lived stuck in doubt for too long. He was still hurt every year because of the same thing, the same subject, the same man. Him. Always him, in this cycle from hell which he had had the misfortune to fall into.
Jeongguk recognised the sound of footsteps a second later. And, for a dreadful instance, he thought Yoongi had chosen to leave him one more time. He panicked instantly, and his eyes returned to the place where the elder had been. But he felt foolish the second he encountered Yoongi’s figure right next to him, a hand grasping a thick chain suspended over Jeongguk’s head; whilst the other one offered him a white square. A folded handkerchief.
Jeongguk observed this one with hesitation, wondering since when Yoongi had started to carry such an object with him. But, after insisting silently and with some remorse behind his eyes, Jeongguk was convinced and chose to grab the little thing. He wiped the tears that had failed to be dried by the wind and let the cotton fall to his lap. His hands trapped the material between layers of skin.
No words were exchanged between the two for some time, at least, not until Jeongguk’s curiosity made him look up one more time. He watched Yoongi in silence, being reminded of the times he would do this in his younger youth. Back then, his gaze had held so much passion and devotion. Now, it was all confusion and a small percentage of –
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said, turning to him and holding Jeongguk’s gaze, “I know it must mean nothing to you now, not that I blame you, but… I’m sorry. I should not have disappeared like that. I should have given you at least an explanation. That’s the least you deserved for coping with me.”
“It doesn’t really matter anymore,” but it actually did. Jeongguk was not brave enough to confess this to him.
“I am still sorry. I know I hurt you.”
I’m still hurt, Jeongguk wanted to say but settled with a gentle shake to his head.
“It was so long ago, just forget about it.”
Another dreadful silence consumed them. Jeongguk looked away first.
“But I’m still not over it. I’m still not over you and me,” Yoongi said a second later, “And I know you aren’t either.”
“How can you be so sure about that?” the other one wanted to shout. Yet, a mere whisper was what he managed to force out of his throat. It was burning, once again, with the future presence of tears and exhaustion. He needed to sleep.
“You wouldn’t be here if it was otherwise. I wouldn’t be here either, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Maybe we should stop, then.”
“Do you want to stop?” it was more a challenge than a question. Both knew that it was a complex lie. They could have been drowning, but they still did not want to go to the surface and separate. As long as they could stay a little more with the other, they would rather stay on their shaky seesaw and fall until this one came to its doom too.
“Yes,” no.
“Are you sure?”
“No,” yes.
Yoongi chuckled, just a little bit, perhaps not enough to be completely genuine. Another pause materialised in front of them. They looked at the other – the sounds of the sea saturating the air – as if all of their past had never existed. And, just in the way that one must return to the land after touching the sky, Yoongi crouched in front of Jeongguk. He supported his weight on the soles of his feet and extended his hand towards the boy that still faced the sea.
“Let’s start again,” he proposed, offering Jeongguk a new beginning. The opportunity to build a new future over the first draft of their relationship, “Hello. I’m Yoongi, a very foolish man who, once, let go of the love of his life. He doesn’t want to commit the same mistake again, and would appreciate it if you could give him the one more chance he does not deserve. Nice to meet you.”
Jeongguk hesitated, again, but did as his heart commanded.
“I’m Jeongguk,” the other one said, grabbing the foreign yet familiar hand. He shook it, carefully, “A man who lost his other half and has a frail heart. A man who still does not trust you completely, but is willing to try... Please take care of me well.”
And maybe they had always been meant to be. Maybe they were destined to part ways again, sometime in the approaching days that would pass them by like bullets. But Jeongguk, at the moment, could not think of anything else that was not Yoongi. He had been shattered. He shouldn’t fall into the same game. But he had hopes in what time would bring to him. These running spring days; where new memories were made and stored in the bud of a flower that was born from destruction and snow. A little like their evergreen love, too.