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Carefully serve the dishes on a plate and set it across you, July has gotten used to this routine. Though there will be no one else visiting tonight, he continues this routine like there is someone who will come through that door.
Today too, July is left packing up leftovers and wondering if he should even cook tomorrow. Probably not lunch, he can have this feast of Korean dishes during lunch. It does bring the question, why was he in the mood for Korean food? He’s rarely like this. He preferred to have simple meals that just fulfilled his hunger, it was rare for him to get in the mood to cook such a large range of dishes.
“ I heard Korean pancakes aren’t like most pancakes! They look almost like omelets! ”
Right.
July remembered such a conversation when deciding what to have for dinner; August animatedly talking about wanting to have Korean food because of his frequent visits to the country. Such a strange man, though it can’t be helped. He ends up developing a carving for cuisines from places he’s forced to visit frequently. Not like he minds anyway, he always seems up to try such things. An adventurous eater, July would call him as August proudly agree.
A part of him wonders why he’s even waiting, he knows what happened to August.
Is it mourning? Is that what he’s feeling whenever he looks wistfully at the door?
Is it considered mourning when all July wants to hear is a fool that will shout ‘ I’m home! ’ as soon as he enters through that door? Maybe. Maybe it is. Though, July can’t conclusively decide that it’s mourning. Then again, what does July know about such feelings? He has never been the best at expressing his emotions, to be quite frank.
A part of July wants to ask; why should he be mourning for August?
Wasn’t it August that was the traitor? If so, why should July lie in bed and wonder if there could have been a better way to confront this kind of issue? July can’t help but wonder why those kinds of questions are keeping awake at night. Surely, there must be a reason why he’s feeling sympathetic over the loss of such a traitor.
Today too, July wakes up with nothing to hold onto. The other side of his bed is as cold as ever, what a shame. July is still trying to get used to such a cold feeling; why hasn’t he gotten used to it? July must be unwell.
As scheduled, July follows the usual routine. Place bread into a toaster and make coffee while waiting, take out the different kinds of spreads and set the table accordingly. Without a fail, July will always place two sets of plates and cutlery on the table. Pour coffee in one mug and set another empty one next to the plate, as if someone will roll out of bed to join him for breakfast.
No one will, though.
July will have to spend breakfast in silence, only the cutlery he holds would offer its solace to him.
Today, he has nothing to do. He’ll see if he should go out and travel around the city he has been told to settle in.
Looking out of the window, he stares at the sky as the clouds pass by. Though it’s a little lonely, July finds today’s breakfast rather peaceful. It’s strange, why does he find it peaceful? Is it the peaceful blue sky that he watches as he eats quietly that causes such an eased feeling in him? Maybe. Maybe he feels a little better than the night before.
Then surely, he’ll forget about the other sooner or later.
“It’s too sweet,” July murmurs to himself as he stares at the honey that drips off his toast.
Take a bath and head out, July thinks that maybe he can do a little walking. He can pass by some shops downtown, surely there is something worth doing in this midst of waiting. Is he trying to forget how lonely it can be to be living this way now? Maybe. Maybe a part of him misses the sound of someone animatedly talking about an obscure notion that July doesn’t quite have the energy to try to understand. Talking his ear off, July enjoys August’s voice very much.
Walking through a market, July spots all sorts of earrings. His hand barely tracing over them as he glances through the selection of earrings. They are all fascinating to look at, July enjoys each and every one of the designs displayed but none of them quite suits him. He wonders if he has ever actually found a design that suits him, July doesn’t really have a preference when it comes to earrings.
“ I think these moon earrings suit you, July, ” August’s voice echoes in his ears when July touches them.
August had chosen these earrings, that’s right. July didn’t exactly agree to buy them but August had long purchased them before July could voice out a single protest. It was a strange and impulsive purchase, July quirked an eyebrow while August smiled brightly as he shook the earrings gleefully. They suit July, August would always say whenever he spots July wearing them.
July, too, makes a strange and impulsive purchase today.
Sun earrings, they shine brightly in the sun. July wonders why. Maybe he’s being sentimental, though he is unsure why he’s like this. There should be no reason for him to be sentimental. Even if he tries to whisk such strange feelings that bloom in his heart, he can’t toss away these earrings. Not only would it hurt the hearts of those who made it, July somehow feels that it would hurt August’s as well.
Even with those kinds of sympathetic thoughts, July wonders why he keeps these earrings around.
“I want you to remember that when you wear this, no matter how many changes you go through, you will be able to look at these earrings and know that you’re still you.”
Ah yes, July remembers now. The feeling of August’s warm hands in his, the sound of August’s worried voice, and the hot, painful tears that July shed that night―Just why did July follow that foolish man’s lies? July doesn’t know the answer to that. He’d like to but surely, it’s that small part of him that wants to say that August’s words to July were never lies. They could never be lies, that sorrowful voice sings in July’s lonely heart.
Though, what is the use of singing such a lonesome tune? No one will reply back to July.
July heads home after strolling around the market, there is nothing interesting aside from those earrings he purchased. The gloomy cloudy skies indicate a rather sudden downpour will be heading his way, it’s best to get home as soon as possible. July ties his hair to avoid any strands getting into his peripheral vision as he walks through the heavy wind.
“ Quickly, quickly―put on your raincoats, you’ll catch a cold if you don’t! ” A familiar voice echoes down the street, July turns to find a man with his two sons that giggle as they wear their raincoats. How sweet, July thought. That instance, it feels familiar.
It reminds him of that instance where August struggled to get his boys to put on raincoats during a mission. Where were they staying that day? July can’t remember, all he remembered was August complaining how often it rained in that country. July wasn’t involved in that mission, he just listened to August’s complaints over the phone as he heard April and December get into brawls in the background. At first, July felt worried, for some odd reason. It might be due to the fact that July thought August was irresponsible, handing him children was not exactly the best idea but he brought it upon himself. The worry did ease down once July heard such sweet laughter.
Speaking of which, how have they been doing? It was unfortunate that such a memory made July worry about them.
Do they have a place to rest?
Are they getting enough rest?
Are they eating good food?
Are they loved by others, just as they deserve to be?
More importantly, are they happy?
July can’t help but have such worries circulate his head as he walks past the apartment doors. Why should he worry about the well-being of those children? They are not his responsibilities. They’re grown men, they should be able to take care of themselves. Sure, August acts like they’re still the small children they were when he first picked them up but they’re not children anymore. July isn't August, he can confidently say that.
Then why is he worried about those two?
“ Those two, they're just a big part of my life—I can’t imagine a life where I had not taken care of them. ”
Then why did August accepted his death so willingly and selfishly? If he really did care for them, he would have begged for mercy. If he really did care for them, then why would he leave them to rot and die as he laid peacefully in July's arms. It’s ironic for August to say such words when they hold no true meaning in reality. How pathetic, July wants to spit in August’s face.
The sound of a thunderstrike echoes in the apartment.
What is the use of getting mad when it’s not July’s problem?
July wondered again. All he has been doing today is laze around and wonder. Typically, he’d enjoy doing this. He really does enjoy staying in the comforts of his bed and dreaming about sweet things endlessly but it's hard to do that when there’s an aching feeling in his chest that leaves him wide awake at night. He can’t even bring himself to get mad at such an aching feeling.
It’s an injury that cannot be healed. It’s an injury that no matter how hard July tries to mend, it will never heal. Why? Just why won’t it heal?
Tonight’s dinner is sweet and sour fish, some stir-fry vegetables and rice.
Follow the routine but instead of two, July accidentally sets the table for four. How strange, July thought. Why did he do that? July wanted to ask himself that but he knew. He just didn’t want to admit it.
Pour a glass of water and plate your food, leave the other three empty as if someone will walk through the door and apologize for coming home late while another two will stumble out of their rooms, complaining about work from college. Is July being hopeful? Such a scene won’t happen. Not then, not now and most definitely not ever. July is just creating fake hope for himself.
Though, he’s used to this kind of thing, right? He’s always pretending that things are okay. It’s not something he hasn’t done before. In fact, he’s an expert on this. Then, why does it hurt so much this time?
July thinks dinner tastes a lot more salty than sweet, sour or even spicy. He can’t taste anything through his tears, July realised that. He stops himself from eating, it’s no use in trying to scarf down food if he can’t savour the taste. Just like how there’s no use in setting the table as if there’s more than just July that lives in this apartment. There’s no use in following such a useless routine anymore.
July killed it. July killed every chance he could to reach out for such a future.
“I’m a horrible person,” July cries.
No one will forgive July. There is no chance for July to redeem himself, he’s aware of that. Even with the full sense of awareness, he still wishes that he could be forgiven. July wants to be forgiven, his heart voices out such a plea. No one will hear that plea in this deafening home. Only July will hear such a plea, it’s painful that he knows that.
Wiping his tears away, he continues to eat as much as he can. Clean up and pack away the food, he won’t cook tomorrow. He doesn’t want to cook tomorrow, he doesn’t want to do anything tomorrow. Maybe he’ll escape reality tomorrow, dream of a world where he will be able to receive the love he had purposely destroyed without realising.
Tonight too, he wants to lie to himself. He can hear two boys brawl down the hallway as they run to the bathroom, a man scolds them for fighting and he feels a kiss on the cheek as he washes the dishes. Once all the dishes were cleared, July heads to the bedroom where he waits for a few minutes before taking a bath. Though he knows no one else was actually using the bathroom, he pretends there was.
Talk about your day as you wash your hair, though the person July is imagining isn’t actually in the bathtub, he can pretend there is someone thoughtfully listening to him. As pathetic it may be, he continues to do so. Dry your hair and head to bed, take a minute and whisper about what will happen tomorrow. July has gotten used to this delusional routine.
Just as July turns off the lights on his side of the bed, he realises he has forgotten the most crucial part of such a routine.
“ I love you, ” July whispers to the empty side of his bed before closing his eyes.