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Colours.
Growing up, Wooyoung refused to even believe their existence in the world. Everyone discussed them, of course; throughout school, handfuls of students would say they could see what they claimed to be ‘purple’ or ‘orange’, but all Wooyoung could do was scoff at their ridiculous remarks and remain safely buried within the few who believed it to be nonsense. Because Wooyoung knew that’s exactly what it was. He, like everyone else in the world, had been born seeing in black and white - grey vision was all he knew. Any vague and disjointed explanation of what a ‘colour’ was brought laughter to his lungs, great joy to his mind; it was just so ridiculous. That was, however, until he met Jeong Yunho.
Wooyoung could remember the moment so vividly in the back of his mind; it was constantly playing, like a movie on repeat fit with high definition picture and the clearest of sound. He was coming to the end of his final shift as a waiter in the restaurant just outside of town and he was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Admittedly, he’d been seconds away from dropping everything and just leaving - after all, what were they going to do, sack him? With only half an hour left of his job anyway? He’d loved to see them try. The only thing that stopped him, was the way in which he suddenly spotted an endearing stranger from across the room.
He was sat at alone, in a booth at the far corner of the restaurant. Or so, he was a stranger in that moment. Someone Wooyoung had never seen before, but suddenly felt as though he’d known for years. He had a strange familiarity about him; the way he pouted his lips mindlessly as he circled a straw around the empty glass that had once held a strawberry milkshake; the way he occasionally shook his head to allow for his soft black hair to fall upon his forehead; everything about this person, Wooyoung found strangely interest. In a moment of confidence, the young waiter picked up a tray and took his tired feet toward the table - table number seven, to be precise.
“Excuse me, are you finished?” Wooyoung asked the same overly rehearsed line just as he had always done the past few months, like a robot just going about its job.
“Oh, I- yes, thank you.” He responded, letting go of the straw and lifting the glass toward his waiter, avoiding eye contact through shyness.
“No rush, sir. May I take these empty plates?” Wooyoung didn’t know why he was suddenly speaking so formally, nor suddenly wanting to actually do his job but a nod from the boy before him allowed for him to lean across and scoop up the plates. In seconds he was back in the kitchen, sliding the plates into the sink as a foreign rush of euphoria sent his heartbeat into a flurry. His legs almost gave out beneath him as he took himself back to his position by the bar.
“You stealing my customer?” A voice had come from behind Wooyoung, sudden enough to make him jump as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“Shut up, Mingi.” He snapped, staring up at his colleague with an evil glare. His glare would have been threatening, if he hadn’t been a considerable amount shorter than Mingi.
“May I take these empty plates?” Mingi repeated the words Wooyoung had spoken to the man in an exaggerated, mocking tone, impersonating the way the waiter had crouched to reach the table and carefully balance the three empty plates on his tray.
“Shut up!” Wooyoung shrieked, playfully hitting his friend in the arm and causing quite a chaotic eruption behind the bar. Yunho had heard it; Wooyoung knew, because he looked over. The moment their eyes locked, his entire world erupted into something extraordinary. Both he and Yunho froze up, their eyes completely stuck staring at one another.
“Uh, hello? Earth to Wooyoung? Are you there?” Mingi waved a hand in front of Wooyoung’s face, he blinked hard, rubbing at his eyes. When he pulled his hands away, he gasped. “You just discovering your hands or what?” Mingi jested.
“D-do you see that?” Wooyoung stuttered, glaring around the room as if he’d just been born in to it. Mingi looked around, a frown of confusion and concern forming on his eyebrows. Yunho had panicked and looked away, diverting his gaze into the palms of his hands that he had stretched out on the table before him. “Dude.”
“Did you smoke something back there or-” Mingi had never been more confused in his life as he watched Wooyoung run his hand along the marble counter-top, turning and gawping at the rows of alcoholic beverages that were lined along a shelf behind him.
“It was all real, all this time-”
“Wooyoung, buddy - you’re going to have to help me out here.”
But how was he to explain? Was there a way to put into words how the entire room burst in to ‘colour’ before him? How would he describe the bright reds that splashed the restaurant booths, or the shining silver of the chandeliers? Could he ever explain the deep purples and beautiful yellows that surrounded red and oranges of the labels on the fruit cider drinks along the shelves? Furthermore, how was he to explain that this knowledge and vision suddenly came to him in such a way? It felt surreal, almost scary.
“Colours.” Was all Wooyoung could respond as he once again looked over at the stranger in the corner booth. Needless to say, Mingi didn’t believe a word of it. He stormed back to the kitchen to finish serving the final orders of the day, thinking Wooyoung was attempting to pull some large-scale prank on him that had been pre-meditated with a suspicious acting stranger placed strategically in the far corner of the restaurant. However, the uncomfortable gazes he and Wooyoung shared let the teen know that he too had experienced something similar.
Soon, while helping the stranger pay, he discovered that he too had experienced a surge of permanent colour once he’d met eyes with Wooyoung. They both shared with one another how strange but wonderful it had felt, and how breathtaking these new colours were to their sight. The new colours in Wooyoung’s life were stunning, there was no doubting that, but something more beautiful to him was the relationship that soon flourished with this stranger, whose name he’d learned to be Yunho.
Following their strange yet uplifting experience, the two agreed to meet after Wooyoung’s shift to get coffee at the local café and discuss the events of the day. One coffee date turned into two, three, four, and before long Wooyoung and Yunho were inseparable. They may as well have been permanently joint at the hip - everywhere Wooyoung went, Yunho wasn’t far behind; everywhere Yunho went, Wooyoung was at his side, their fingers intertwined and eyes always stealing glances at one another with fond smiles and nervous giggles.
It didn’t take long for the whole town to know who they were… they were that couple. Recognised by store managers, coffee shop baristas, even local teens would gush over how they wished they had a relationship like Yunho and Wooyoung. They were the town’s pride and joy.
Perhaps it had been in the way Wooyoung shone when he smiled; the captivating brown colour of his eyes, the way they glowed with happiness at almost every moment that made Yunho fall so quickly. Maybe it was the sound of his laughter, so precious and pure it made his heart soar every time he heard it; it could have been the way his hands felt in Yunho’s, the way their bodies fit so perfectly together like a jigsaw puzzle when they cuddled. Either way, Yunho was in love, and he knew in the way Wooyoung acted that he felt exactly the same.
A day they often thought about, though wouldn’t admit to one another, was Wooyoung’s twentieth birthday. Yunho had surprised him with a picnic, perfectly packaged and placed inside a wicker basket fit with a blanket laid delicately across the grass of their favourite park. Despite it being November, it seemed even the weather was on their side; the sun sliding out from behind the wispy clouds, projecting warmth upon the couple as they surrounded themselves with love and happiness as they spent the whole afternoon absorbing one another’s company.
“No way!” Wooyoung suddenly gasped, grabbing Yunho’s hand and dragging him to his feet as he too leapt from the blanket. “Look at that!” Yunho kept a tight grip on Wooyoung’s hand as he followed his eyesight. A rainbow, stretched perfectly across the sky. The prettiest, most beautiful colours within them; pale and pastel, peaceful and calming. A brief smile lingered on Yunho’s lips as he looked down at his love, his smile shinier than ever as he hopped excitedly.
“Hey, Wooyoung?” Wooyoung looked up at him, his eyes wide and lips forming the tiniest ‘O’ shape.
“What is it?”
“Be my boyfriend.”
Wooyoung paused. Then he smiled again.
“I’d love to.” With that, he wrapped his arms around Yunho’s body and buried his face in his chest. Yunho had never held someone tighter in that moment. All of his dreams were coming true.
“Here, have this.” The taller boy removed himself from his boyfriend, digging out of his pocket and removing a yellow wire bracelet from his pocket. Wooyoung lifted his arm, allowing Yunho to attach the yellow string to his wrist; he shrieked with pure glee when he realised the charm read ‘7’.
“So I can always remember the moment he met?” He asked, looking up at Yunho with twinkling question marks in his eyes. Yunho closed his eyes and nodded with a gentle smile.
“Yup, and yellow because you are my sunshine.”
Wooyoung stuck his bottom lip out and sniffed.
“Are you crying?” Yunho gasped, taking his hands. Wooyoung didn’t respond, just giggled as Yunho pulled him in to him and cuddled him once more. “God, I love you so much.
“I love you more!” Wooyoung wailed.
“Jung Wooyoung!” A voice screeched from behind them.
“Oh, God. I could recognise that voice anywhere.” Wooyoung joked, turning himself round to see Song Mingi moving toward him with alarming speed. He was walking, but to Wooyoung that was alarming. Even more so since he had another man on his arm.
“Colours, huh? You really weren’t joking!” He laughed, shaking Wooyoung’s hand in a disgustingly formal kind of way. “This is my fiancé, San.” San waved, smiling.
“Oh! This is Yunho, he’s… my boyfriend.” The new term felt nice. It made Wooyoung’s heart flutter nervously. Mingi nodded.
“It was so nice to see you, Woo! But we must go, we got a film to catch! See you soon!” With that, he was gone.
“Woo…” Yunho sniggered. Wooyoung hit him playfully, warning him not to jest or there would be mortal consequences.
Months later they moved in together, spending every hour they weren’t working or with friends, in one another’s arms. They were strolling hand in hand down the beautiful path of life, hopping the obstacles along the way together. Wooyoung loved coming in from work during the week to the sound of Yunho humming and singing in the kitchen, the sweetest scent of whatever he’d cooked for dinner rising around him and wrapping him in the warmest of hugs until Yunho did it himself.
On weekends, Wooyoung would cook. After many late night culinary lessons from his boyfriend, he’d got the hang of many different dishes that he adored adding his own ideas to - calling it ‘The Wooyoung Touch’. Admittedly, Yunho had to put on a brave face and pretend as though The Wooyoung Touch was improving the dishes he was preparing, but that was only one more addition to the list of things he loved about his soulmate. He couldn’t go at least one weekend a month without holding back coughs as he spooned over-salted or over-spiced food into his mouth. Yunho would come in from work on the weekends, wrap his arms around his boy and gently kiss his neck, swaying and singing softly together as Wooyoung cooked.
Love bounced between the pair like a seesaw, moving gracefully and carefully in the summer breeze. That was, until the day of Wooyoung’s promotion. The day Wooyoung was made CEO of the company he had apprenticed for since his early teen years, fate sealed his and Yunho’s future in the cruellest of ways.
Wooyoung didn’t remember much of the party. Bits and pieces of it returned to him in the days following as he sobered up and regained the ability to function like a normal human being - that was, once his body had recovered from the insane amounts of alcohol he’d consumed. Yunho hadn’t attended the party due to having come down with a ridiculous case of the flu a few nights before; nor had that stopped him taking care of his unwell soulmate, making sure he had a cold towel on his head, aid for his sickness, a careful amount of medicine for his headache.
Yunho’s nursing skills proved excellent - they were both back at work within a week. It was one night, Wooyoung returned from a day of work to find his and Yunho’s apartment scarily silent. He didn’t walk in to smell dinner cooking as usual, he couldn’t hear Yunho’s cheerful singing as he fried eggs or poured wine; eerie, uncomfortable silence.
“Yunho? Baby?” He called out, sliding his coat from his shoulders and hanging it on the hook.
“In here.” He heard a response coming from the bedroom in the back of the apartment. When he entered the bedroom, he saw Yunho. He looked frail, maybe he was unwell again? Silence hung in the air for a split second before he spoke.
“Seonghwa said you kissed Yeosang. At the promotion party… you kissed him.” He was perched on the edge of their bed, staring down into his lap as he anxiously slid his ring up and down his finger, unsure of where to divert his eyes. “And that you… did you do anything else with him that night, Wooyoung?”
“Yunho, listen to me-” Wooyoung took a step toward his boyfriend, who snapped his gaze up and threw him the most delicate of looks, begging him not to come any closer.
“No nonsense, Wooyoung - tell me straight.” To this, Wooyoung stuttered, stumbling over his words as the sky darkened outside.
“Yunho-”
“And don’t lie to me.” Yunho spoke in a shaky voice, his body trembling. “I am begging you, Wooyoung, do not lie to me.” His eyes were glazed over with tears, rising slowly over his eyelashes and threatening to fall at any moment. Wooyoung sighed. Because it was his mistake. It was his fault the love of his life was stood in front of him, slowly falling apart right before his eyes. And all he could do was release a heavy breath and mutter a weak apology.
Yunho was conflicted. Seeing Wooyoung upset shattered his heart and soul beyond any repair - but why? Why, in this situation, was Yunho feeling bad for his boyfriend? ...At least he wasn’t blatantly denying it, right? The whirlwind of thoughts in his head brought on a rampant headache, expanding across his head in mere seconds and causing him to groan out loud, his hands snapping up to grab at his hair.
“Oh Yunho, what’s wrong with you!” He voiced his inner thoughts loudly, causing Wooyoung to hop backwards.
“Yunho, I-”
“You fucked Yeosang!”
Yunho had never spoken so bluntly before, the sudden switch in language and nature sent a knife right through Wooyoung’s heart. But he had no right to feel hurt by Yunho’s reaction, and he knew that. In fact, he was painfully aware of it.
“But not only did you do that; you had the audacity to come home to me the same night, crawl into bed with me and tell me you loved me. I looked after you even though I was sick myself… this whole time, you’d-” His voice broke, tears beginning to spill down his face as he sniffed and choked back his words. “I was going to propose to you in the morning.” He muttered.
Those words took Wooyoung by the throat, mercilessly choking him out.
“But I wouldn’t be proposing to Jung Wooyoung, would I? I wouldn’t be proposing to the boy who bought colour to my world, the angel that saved my soul, the sunshine on my dark days, the one who made me feel home… would I, Wooyoung?” Wooyoung remained silent, the slight shine of tears showing on his cheeks as a sudden flash of lightning lit the room for mere milliseconds.
Yunho breathed heavily, he was aware he was rambling; but he couldn’t stop, everything was happening so quickly. “No. I’d be proposing to Kang Yeosang’s drunk one night stand, to someone I gave my entire heart to only for it to be abandoned in the mud after years of false loyalty.”
Silence. All that could be heard was the pounding of rain against the window and the grumbling threat of thunder in the clouds. Yunho wanted to believe it was just a dumb drunk mistake. He tried and tried with everything in him to make himself believe it, clawing at any and every defence for Wooyoung he could possibly pick out; but each time it slipped from his grasp, replaced by more questions - why hadn’t Wooyoung told him? How long was he going to keep it a secret? Would he ever have told Yunho he’d cheated on him? The answers, he didn’t want to know.
“I can’t do this.” Yunho spoke again, shaking his head and smearing tears across his face with the back of his sweater sleeve.
“I’ll go.” Wooyoung hung his head, aware of his wrongs. No matter how much he so genuinely and wholeheartedly regretted it; it had happened, and it was his fault.
“No you won’t.” Yunho hated himself for saying it. Given what had happened, he should throw Wooyoung out in the brewing thunderstorm, bark at him to never come back and leave him there… but he just couldn’t. He still adored Wooyoung, still loved him with everything he had. He couldn’t put him in danger like that. “I will.”
Wooyoung only saw Yunho once more after that. It was from the window of the hotel as he watched his broken lover walk through the pouring rain in the direction of the train station; at one point he paused, his hair and clothes already sopping wet and sticking to his skin - Wooyoung urged him silently to look back, just so he could see his face one more time before he left. But he didn’t.
And as Wooyoung watched him disappear into the distance, he stood there, staring out at the city lights as the raindrops trailed down the window; mocking those dripping down his face. Gradually, the colours he’d grown so in love with begun to fade. The sky turned grey, the clouds even darker and more menacing; no more, were the billboards of the city below red and yellow, but grey and white; the buildings they were on turned black. In moments all of the colours were gone.
Wooyoung peered down. He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and looped his index finger around his bracelet. It wasn’t yellow anymore. No longer did the bracelet Yunho had gifted him, spark sunshine. Just dull, grey emptiness.