Work Text:
one tap and the screen redirects him into his music player, and with another he hit the replay button. the music started and so did his day.
the soft acoustic play of the guitar then accompanied yuta down his way to the kitchen. he turned on the coffee maker while humming along to the lyrics —yuta would’ve memorised the whole song at this point, especially since it’s the only song he had played every single day for the past 3 and a half months. the korean rolled over his tongue with perfect pronunciation, every note was hit perfectly.
yuta loved singing. he still do.
the smell of roasted coffee filling the kitchen’s atmosphere, followed by a light click from the coffee machine, and then he sat down on the table. looking at the small cactus on the table beside him, little red flowers decorating its thorny skin, reminding him of someone he dear the most.
“it’s small, easy to take care, and fits right into our kitchen decor.”
“exactly just like you.” yuta replied followed with a little snicker.
“excuse me, but i’m 2 centimeters taller than you, gremlin.”
“who says anything about height? you’re small, easy to take care, and fits right into my life.” yuta saw his ears slowly turns red, astonished on how easily he got flustered.
“you smooth fucker.” the other said, hitting him hard enough by the shoulder.
sipping the hot coffee in his hand, bittersweet just the way he liked it. the room stayed still for a moment, quiet and lonely, even when the music still plays in the background. so he stood up and left.
“ sometimes i cry, ” yuta grabbed his sling bag.
“ sometimes i laugh. ” then he walked over the door.
“ i have expectations, ” he took out the earphones from his jeans pocket, putting them in his ears while plugging it to his phone.
“ and i go through pain. ” and he grasped the keys that sat on the door side drawer.
“ i get butterflies once again, ” yuta flipped up the photo frame that was facing downwards beside the key holder, revealing a picture of two man in their early 20’s, smiling widely.
“ and become dull. ” he caressed the side of the picture slowly, before snapping his gaze back to the door, opening it.
“ following my heart, the way that I am. ” yuta stepped outside, sun already greeting him with open arms, shining so brightly.
and he locked the door behind him.
.
yuta walked by the park slowly, taking his time as he spectates the view beside him. The park filled with people from all sorts of age, having the time of their life. he spotted a particular seat where he would go over in the evenings by himself.
he wasn’t always by himself, but he couldn’t bring anyone with him to visit the park, not at the moment.
especially when it holds lots of memories.
memories of his loved one.
“your pet dog is unbelievably cute, what’s it name?” yuta looked up to the figure who’s crouching down by his dog, petting her.
“her name is rapunzel.”.
“Hi rapunzel, it’s nice to meet you. And what would this handsome man’s name be?” the man asked as he averts his gaze to him, waiting for an answer and smiled oh so widely.
“nakamoto yuta.” yuta smiles back at him.
.
yuta is numb, pain doesn’t work on him anymore. even when the roses he’s been holding piercing his now rough skin, them starting to bleed staining his white uniform. as if his body has gone auto-pilot mode, the word “ouch” just spewed out of his mouth, him instantly dropping all of the freshly cut roses —but he didn’t feel anything, not the slightest pinch of pain.
“you’re such a crybaby, here give me your hand.”
yuta extended his arm, a small cut can be seen right in the middle of his hand. “first, i’m not a crybaby. second, this is my pollen allergy acting up.”
“shut up, if you have pollen energy, i wouldn't have accepted you to work here.”
it’s true that yuta is not a crybaby, but the only thing that he couldn’t handle is pain. he hates it.
“you have such soft hands, yuta. So please don't ever be this hasty or i’ll be so mad at myself.” the other said.
yuta might’ve made a promise to himself that day.
and he broke it. it was one out of the many things that he has broken.
yuta discarded his earphones, walking straight to the backroom to wash his hands. yuta didn’t realise the trail of eyes from his concerned coworkers following him, he couldn’t care less.
“yuta hyung, are you okay?” a voice behind him said, one of the few that actually cares for him.
“i’m okay, sicheng-ie. don’t worry about me, it’s just a small cut.” yuta replied in monotone. sicheng walks over to him and leaned next to the sink, handing over patches of band-aid to yuta. ‘i’m okay.” yuta repeated the words to himself as he plastered the band-aid over his cut.
“you have been acting very differently these past months, hyung. I’m worried that you haven’t treated yourself well all these times. ever since he passed—”
“—thank you for worrying me, but we have work to do sicheng. let’s go.” yuta cut off sicheng, already walking back to the shop to pick up the roses he left. sicheng who was left alone by the backroom can’t really do anything about it. only yuta can help himself.
.
♪ If you can still remember them after time passes
Will you be able to say
That you were happy too? ♪
.
A loud click came from the door when he unlocked his apartment key. after throwing away his bag, yuta let his body fall at the soft cushions of his bed, one hand splayed across the surface while the other rested on his forehead, he had unplugged the earphones from his ears, and the only melody he heard was the sound of the clock’s ticking.
he averted his gaze to his side, meeting a hard brown surface, symbols beautifully carved before him.
‘ ♪ y kim’
doyoung’s guitar.
yuta extended his hand, reaching the instrument’s strings. he picked one, then another, forming a simple melody. the melody he kept on practising for the past 5 months.
yuta smiled softly at the memory of the other man playing it. he was talented, though he never admitted it.
“i poured out everything, and i loved. following my heart, the way that i am.”
and so yuta picked up the guitar, and started playing it.
.
.
.
“ the troubles you couldn’t talk about, ”
there was a loud commotion a few meters near yuta’s flower shop, sirens wailing from every corner and people running toward the source of the commotion. ambulances, fire trucks and the police were all over the scene and yuta found himself, standing still in the middle of the crowds, stunned by the view before him.
yuta‘s brain trying to deny all logic when he saw a glimpse of the person he knows all-too-well. the person who’s lying motionless on one of the stretchers that are being loaded to one of the ambulances. the person who’s face already being covered with white cloth.
the person who is kim doyoung.
“ the spots with deep scars, ”
cold. yuta can only feel the cold.
and quite.
and regret.
there he was, standing before the freshly plowed yard, flowers messily scattered on top, and heavy rain pouring from above, drenching the only person left at the valley of the dead.
yuta stared blankly at the single onyx stone engravings beautifully decorated it’s skin. kim dongyoung, a wise brother, a precious son, and a caring friend —it said.
kim dongyoung, a loving husband—it didn’t.
yuta hated himself for that.
“ the time passing at the same pace.”
yuta locked himself up in his apartment for the next few weeks. body’s not leaving an inch further from his bedroom’s door frame, friends neglected and left behind the constant ringing of the doorbell reminding him of life outside his dimly lit rooms.
but was there really something live out there? or was it buried 5 feet deep into the very earth? yuta didn’t really care about the answer, though.
all he knew that he cried, cried, and cried. head pain because of the excessive loss of body fluid, throat left to sore for too long.
all he knew that doyoung was gone from his life.
“ like always, i’ll wash them away.”
or he was mistaken.
doyoung lived on. yuta soon learned. doyoung lived through the cactus pot by the kitchen table, a memento from the old time sake.
doyoung lived on through the guitar under his bed, teaching him note by note, strums of melody.
doyoung lived on through.. the song he sent to yuta the day he died, and yuta hopped off his bed. he opened every cabinet there was and every shelf. he rummaged through his desktop to find his earphones, only to find it still plugged into the headphone splitter —his and doyoung’s. he still used it nonetheless, without the other hole connecting to the other’s earphone.
‘that’s okay by d.o.’ the screen showed when he clicked the link and redirected it to his music player. yuta shed a lot more tears from the start,
“ that’s right, it’s okay to be okay.”
until the end.
yuta tapped the bottom side of the guitar, eyes now looking straight into the camera’s lens before him. he did it, at last. no more strings attached, no more heavy feelings. tears started flowing down washing his cold cheeks, him breaking into the widest smile he can. happy, for the first time in 5 months he was finally happy.
yuta wiped his eyes, still shimmering and now full of contentment.
he then leaned towards the camera, and with another click,
it stopped recording.
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♥︎ d
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may, 5th 2019
23.16
im close, will arrive in a few mins
23.16
anw check this song out, will u? its so good
23.17
https://open.spotify.com/track/2Ghu1DdMwxS3VAyB7i38Wo?si=Weauoo5XSlyA9IG_9-Ax7A
23.17
i want to cover this with u
today
22.38
im sorry that i never get to reply your messages
sending...
22.38
ive been hurting everyday and i hate myself for that
sending...
22.39
but i’m okay now :)
sending...
22.41
it really is a good song, doie
sending...
22.41
i miss you
sending...
[ failed to send 5 messages.]
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end.