Work Text:
There's a dream that always lingers at the edge of Jaehyun's consciousness: the snow, the wind, the train.
There's a woolen blanket strung neatly over his lap, and on the makeshift desk before him his notebook is marred with scribbles of a half-finished poem.
The pages flap gently in time with the slight jostles of the train as it hums soundlessly over the tracks.
Jaehyun twirls his pen between his fingers restlessly before tucking the writing utensil neatly along the spine of the notebook. The weight of the pen anchors the pages enough for the lines of text to still momentarily, but Jaehyun doesn't bother reading any of it.
In this dream, and in every identical one that has preceded it, the page is lined with nothing but illegible nonsense.
Instead of dwelling on it, Jaehyun focuses his gaze to the windows, where the steady stream of snowflakes smacks relentlessly against the glass. This sight, too, is familiar, but Jaehyun welcomes the monotony.
The coin-sized flakes of ice stick to the window, their crystalline structures a stark white against the dim of the night. From the other side of the glass, Jaehyun touches his fingertip to the center of one, and it blurs into clear water before he even withdraws his hand.
The slurry of snowflakes, ephemeral as each one is, is the only element of change on the seemingly endless train ride.
Jaehyun knows.
No matter how long he endures or how desperately he wants to find out where his peculiar dream-train would like to take him, the answer is always beyond his grasp. There is little point in fighting it, when no amount of exploration or speculation brings him any closer to resolution.
Jaehyun exhales deeply, and closes his eyes. Ironically enough, he has been here enough times to know that the only way to end the dream is to fall asleep.
As Jaehyun's consciousness blurs away and he succumbs to his weariness, there is an overbearing feeling of loss.
---
The steam from an untouched coffee cup rises in aromatic whorls, dissipating somewhere above the tact neatness of Jaehyun's desk.
As the pristine expanse of a blank document on his laptop stares pointedly back at him, Jaehyun feels rather like his potted desk plant, whose droopy countenance frowns at him even from behind a mountain of sticky notes.
The plant's yellowing leaves, limp to the touch, is an almost sure sign that it's been overwatered recently. Everyday its wilting stature threatens to sink lower than the cup of cheerfully colored pens just beside it.
But the plant is still a more comforting sight to look at than the whiteboard hanging behind it, which almost mirrors the empty document on his laptop.
His profession, for all of its elegance, is also a messy one; untangling all the matters of which word goes best and who said what where can be confusing, to say the least. The unbridled clutter of a writer's mind translates easily to the workspace, and a productive day for Jaehyun leaves his desk scattered with annotated note cards and neon colored sticky notes, his whiteboard decorated with all manners of doodles and quotes and ideas in sharp black marker.
But for weeks his workspace has been pleasantly, disparagingly tidy, and Jaehyun can no longer deny that worries that linger at the back of his mind.
Both his editor and his (admittedly small) circle of peers had warned him that in the wake of a successful novel, it can be difficult to think of new ideas: through an excess of pressure to perform, a bloated sense of self-satisfaction, or whatever else.
What plagues Jaehyun now is not a scarcity of ideas but rather a complete absence of any good ones.
"It's been four weeks and I haven't thought of anything," he'd confessed to Taeil, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for this."
Taeil had only exhaled through his nose before sipping from his glass indifferently. "Jaehyun, typically people say that before they publish a national bestseller."
Taeil may be right. He usually is.
After all, in spite of all the books and paintings and poetry that proved to be fruitless sources of inspiration, Jaehyun hasn't exhausted all of his resources yet.
He reaches for the mug of cooling, punishingly black coffee on his desk, gulping it down idly as he examines the single line of text written at the top of the whiteboard: 8 AM, Seoul Public Rail.
---
Jaehyun leaves his apartment half an hour earlier than he'd thought was necessary, and he still jogs up the station steps with only five minutes to spare.
Just as he pauses to catch his breath, his phone vibrates in the pocket of his blazer. Jaehyun straightens, checks the caller ID, and swiftly swipes to accept the call.
"Hello," he answers discreetly, as he carefully weaves in and out of the dense morning foot traffic.
"Jaehyun." Taeil's voice, pleasant and neutral, echoes to him from the other end of the line. "Are you at the train station?"
"Yes." Jaehyun pauses at the terminal platform as he lets out a sigh of relief. "There was a traffic accident on the way, so I just got here. But the train hasn't arrived yet, so it's fine." Jaehyun keeps his eyes trained on the vacant tracks as he pulls the small suitcase at his side closer.
"That's good," Taeil hums.
Jaehyun waits for the rest.
Taeil, while kind, has made it abundantly clear that he is not Jaehyun's babysitter, and he isn't the type to call just to confirm Jaehyun's made it to his paid vacation on time.
"Is there something wrong?" Jaehyun finally asks after a prolonged silence. The bullet train arrives, docking soundlessly at the terminal, and Jaehyun shuffles amongst the other passengers to board in an orderly fashion.
Faintly, he hears Taeil blow out a breath of air.
"Jaehyun, don't take this the wrong way. But the company says you have two weeks to submit a new novel proposal, or they might have to reconsider the terms of your contract."
There's a sinking feeling in Jaehyun's chest, anchored by prescience and mired in disdain, and he does his best to will it down. At times like these he's grateful for Taeil - at both the objective way he delivers the bad news and his patience in allowing Jaehyun to process the information at his own pace.
There's silence on the line for five, ten seconds. Jaehyun slides his luggage in the overhead compartment and takes a seat.
"Thanks for telling me," Jaehyun says softly, after taking a breath to compose himself. He's not sure what to say after that, and for a moment the line goes quiet - tense.
"It’s just because your debut was so popular," Taeil reminds him, gently. "No one expected it to generate so many sales. They want to get as many works out of you as possible while your contract lasts. But you'll get used to it. And you'll probably have plenty of new ideas after your trip, so it's nothing to worry about."
"I hope so," Jaehyun replies, as he traps his bottom lip between his teeth.
Any lingering doubts floating in Jaehyun's mind are interrupted by the calm voice on the other end of the line.
"I'll let you go now," Taeil says, his usual business-like tone dampened with concern. "Don't worry about it too much, and enjoy your trip, Jaehyun."
"Thank you, hyung."
The line clicks dead, and Jaehyun pockets his phone, taking a moment to glance at the rapidly moving scenery outside the window.
Usually on long commutes, Jaehyun makes it a habit to write at least half of the time, but when he places his leather notebook in his lap he feels nothing but a muted sense of unease.
He resigns himself to an exciting two hours of staring out the window.
---
If Jaehyun had arrived at the station sooner, he would've almost certainly bought snacks to distract his yearning stomach.
He'd already eaten a light breakfast, but the phone call with Taeil had made him jittery, and the unfortunate reality for his cheekbones is that he's already feeling peckish again.
After all, he hadn't eaten for - Jaehyun checks his watch - four hours?
That couldn't be right.
The estimated travel time had only been two hours, so how could it have doubled? Had he zoned out so severely that he'd missed all the announcements about his stop?
Jaehyun looks up frantically to find any information about what's going on, only to pause in shock. The smooth walls of the train are void of any route maps, safety directions, or advertisements of any sort.
He may have been busy with the phone call when he boarded, but he definitely would've noticed something so unusual.
The rest of the train is just as immaculate. Jaehyun notes the colorful embroidery of the plush seats are not a single stitch out of place as the pleasant hum of cold, filtered air fills his ears.
It is the only sound that fills his ears, as Jaehyun belatedly realizes that he's the only person left on the train.
Seeing no one in front of him, Jaehyun quickly whips around to check if there's anyone behind him. His heart settles in his chest when he sees a man sitting a few rows behind him, head down in a book.
Jaehyun lets out an audible sigh.
For a moment, the man looks up at the sound, and then pretends that he did not, but there is no mistaking the flicker of his dark gaze.
Jaehyun turns back around in his seat, relieved to not be the only one left in the train. For someone who has definitely overstayed his ticket, Jaehyun feels surprisingly calm.
He's already missed his stop. He doesn't even know where they are right now, but there's a good chance that the person behind him does.
At least, that's the excuse Jaehyun tells himself when he summons the courage to walk down the aisle and strike up a conversation.
In the latter half of the train, every other row faces backwards, and each seat is a bench wide enough for two people. For better or worse, this allows Jaehyun to face the stranger when he cautiously sits down.
"What's your name?" he asks, putting on what he hopes is a disarming smile.
It's hard to believe he writes dialogue for a living.
The stranger raises a single unimpressed brow at him. "Doyoung."
Jaehyun's mouth feels dry, and he swallows. "I know this might sound weird, but. I'm not quite sure where we are right now."
Doyoung’s brow knits in concern as he tilts his head curiously, and Jaehyun doesn’t know why he finds the gesture as endearing as he does.
"You don't know what this train is, do you?" Doyoung asks, voice lilting and high.
"Well." Jaehyun is only slightly taken aback. He thinks of the blank walls, the eerily mint condition of the entire train, and accepts that yes, perhaps he does not know what this train is. "I guess I don’t."
"Then how did you get here?"
It’s not a particularly exciting story, but Doyoung listens carefully nonetheless.
"So your company is paying for your weekend trip so that you can get inspiration for your next novel,” Doyoung comments. “That’s convenient. I have to say, though -” he looks Jaehyun up and down, the scrutiny plain on his face - “you look different from your photograph.”
“Excuse me?” Jaehyun interjects, not offended, but utterly confused.
Doyoung produces the hardcover book at his side, a mirthful smile on his face as he indicates the glossy biography on the inner book jacket. “You look better in person, if that means anything,” he offers nonchalantly, and Jaehyun feels the blood rush to his face.
"So you've read it?" Jaehyun asks tentatively, pushing down his doubts. "What did you think of it?"
Doyoung has the decency to look apologetic. "I found it on the seat when I boarded this train. Can’t say I’ve had the time to read that far into it.”
It’s almost a relief - no criticism is easier to digest than negative criticism, and Jaehyun conceals the brief moment of disappointment. "That's alright," he says politely. “I’m just glad you gave it a chance to begin with.”
Doyoung smiles at him, and it's a winsome thing, tugging at the corners of his lips just so. "I'm reading it now, aren't I? I didn't have much else to do on this train, before you showed up."
Doyoung’s expression suddenly turns thoughtful, slender fingers drumming on the cover of the book. "Jaehyun, listen to me," he implores, and Jaehyun leans dutifully forward in his seat.
Doyoung interlocks his fingers, flexing them as he puffs out a dismayed breath. "Earlier you told me that you didn’t know where we were. But to tell you the truth I’m not really sure where we are either."
Jaehyun sucks in an alarmed breath, but he chooses to hold his tongue.
“You can already tell that something’s different about this train, right?” At Jaehyun’s hesitant nod, Doyoung continues. “I have a theory about where it’s taking us, but I can’t be sure until we land.”
Doyoung must have noticed the trepidation on Jaehyun's face, because his lips quirk downwards in something akin to a frown. "Don't look at me like that,” he chides. “It’s not like I’m entirely sure of what’s happening either," he says quietly, averting his gaze.
Doyoung meets his eyes then, his moment of insecurity gone as he stares at Jaehyun with an earnest expression. "I know you were already planning to travel, Jaehyun. Isn't it always more fun to go with someone else?"
Looking back on it, this is what does him in: the hope in Doyoung’s eyes, the determined set of his shoulders, the way his hands grip at his knees in the absence of anything else to hold onto.
Jaehyun cannot help but succumb.
---
Within half an hour of Jaehyun settling into the seat across from Doyoung, the latter pops in his earbuds and is lost to the world.
That's well enough, Jaehyun supposes. Doyoung’s gaze trails outside the window, looking vacant and solemn, and the scenery is compelling enough that Jaehyun decides to follow suit.
Within the next hour or so the train enters a thicket of trees, verdant and green. As the irregular canopy paints shadows across Doyoung’s face, Jaehyun wonders once again what he’s gotten himself into.
Just as he summons the resolve to interrupt Doyoung’s listening and ask him more about his supposed theory, the train shudders to a soundless stop. There's no voice - automated or otherwise - announcing their arrival, and the metallic slide of the doors is the only sound that reverberates through the corridor.
Doyoung appears unbothered as he pops out his earbuds and stores them in his pocket. He seems upbeat when he spares a cursory glance outside the window and announces to Jaehyun, "We're here."
Doyoung takes only a moment to stretch before making his way to the door and jumping down the two feet of height between the train exterior and the mossy floor. As he pushes his way through shrubbery, Jaehyun follows closely behind, with the low brambles of bushes scraping at his pant legs as they squeeze between trees and duck underneath branches. It’s only a matter of minutes for them to pick their way through the leafy threshold, and when they emerge on the other side of the forest Doyoung’s eyes shine with fondness at the sight before them.
It’s a small, somewhat derelict children's playground, steeped in a pool of gravel and partitioned by a foot-tall perimeter of weathered concrete.
Doyoung wastes no time in dusting dirt from his pants as he plops onto a black leather swing, the iron chains clanking in protest.
"Where are we?" Jaehyun asks patiently. After all, his relief at finally breathing fresh air outside of the train does little to diminish his curiosity. He takes a seat on the swing next to Doyoung, even as the action bends his knees to an uncomfortably acute angle.
Doyoung’s long fingers grip the chains as he toes the pool of gravel at their feet, contemplative. "This is the playground where my brother and I used to hang out a lot when we were growing up,” he explains. “Donghyun didn't have much time to play with me during the school year, but the summers at our uncle's place were different."
"Your uncle lives around here?" Jaehyun asks, leaning in closer, and Doyoung gives a firm nod.
"He did, a few years ago. Around there," Doyoung points, gesturing in the vague direction of idyllic suburban houses outfitted with white picket fences and well groomed lawns - the works.
Doyoung pauses, collecting himself, and Jaehyun can see from the turmoil in his expression that he’s readying himself to address the question hanging in the air.
He decides to save him the trouble.
“Does this have anything to do with your theory about the train?” Jaehyun prods, gently.
Doyoung blows out a breath as he finally meets Jaehyun's eyes. "It does, actually. But it’s so outrageous that I just -" He closes his eyes, kicking off the ground and allowing the momentum to swing him back and forth once, twice.
His swing stills. "It doesn’t have a logical explanation."
“Not everything has to,” Jaehyun hums.
Doyoung’s eyes, piercing and dark, are staring into his. Searching. “Do you really believe that?” he asks, carefully incredulous.
Jaehyun wouldn’t say he’s the biggest advocate for the impossible. But there’s also nothing logical about the way that Doyoung’s smile puts his whole being at ease when they’ve only just met today.
He doesn’t say that, of course. Instead, he opts for: "I'm a writer. My whole job is just lining up a series of fantastic coincidences."
"Even in real life?" Doyoung presses as he leans closer, eyes narrowed.
Jaehyun plucks at the chain links of the swing as he contemplates. “We have to have gotten here somehow.”
Some of the tension drains out of Doyoung at the rebuttal, and he lets out a resigned exhale. “You’re right,” he concedes. “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, but I want you to walk with me for a bit.”
He hops off the swing and steps outside the playground and onto the sidewalk, with Jaehyun at his side. The staccato chirping of cicadas fills the humid air, and the neighborhood houses are dyed an orange tint from the encroaching sunset. The fleeting rays of light nips at their heels as they continue to walk, and still Doyoung is silent.
Eventually they chance upon a street food stall. Doyoung approaches it, fishes some change out of his pocket to make the transaction and returns to Jaehyun holding two fish-shaped buns. He guides Jaehyun to a nearby bench, brushing off Jaehyun's thanks.
"My mom told me a certain fairy tale growing up," Doyoung says almost conversationally as he blows on his food to cool it. "There was a train where everyone could get what they wanted."
Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at that.
“Sound ridiculous, isn’t it?” Doyoung remarks drily. “But,” he swallows. “I thought of this place for a reason. It’s specific enough - niche enough - that there’s no way we’d end up here by accident. But we did end up here, simply because it’s where I wanted to go. I don’t see any way to explain that logically.”
Jaehyun turns the information over in his head, choosing his words carefully. He’d considered the possibility that the train was governed solely by their whims, but he’d placed little weight behind the idea. “A train where everyone gets what they want,” he repeats, more to help himself process it than anything.
“Precisely.” Doyoung takes a generous bite of the pastry before swallowing. “If that’s the case, then maybe what you want and what I want just happens to align." Pausing to munch on the pastry again, he regards Jaehyun with thoughtful eyes.
"And what is it that you want, Doyoung?"
Doyoung laughs, and it's a precious sound. "When I was a kid, I told my parents that I'd become a lawyer and I'd travel the world. And I've already accomplished one, so."
If Jaehyun had been asked before today his opinion on traveling the world with a near stranger, he would’ve dismissed the idea as strange and borderline irresponsible. But here - in the hazy humidity of the summer evening, in the sweetness of red bean clinging to his palate, in the expectant look in Doyoung’s eyes as he chews in muted anticipation - there is something that makes his mind race, something that makes him feel more alive than he’s felt in years. From before his slump, from when he still saw the beauty in the small things.
“So?” Doyoung asks pointedly. “Are you coming with me?” His smile is razor sharp, and the resulting rush Jaehyun feels is as potent as adrenaline.
“I am.”
---
The sunlight of the Parisian morning is unforgiving.
Jaehyun had been awake for over an hour when Doyoung finally rouses, squinting at the offending light and stretching his cramped limbs.
A piece of Doyoung’s unkempt hair sticks stubbornly out of place, but Jaehyun quells the urge to smooth it back with his fingers when the other fixes him with a stern, groggy look.
Quite the defiant statement, coming from someone who'd fallen asleep curled against him, with his soft black hair tickling Jaehyun's neck.
Jaehyun declines to comment on it, sufficiently warned by the cloudy expression that lingers on Doyoung’s face as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Instead, he offers Doyoung the first turn in the bathroom to freshen up as the train grinds to a timely halt.
They're dropped off at a busy side road near the heart of the city; Jaehyun looks back and is only a little surprised to find the train had disappeared as soon as they'd exited it.
Doyoung shrugs. "It'll be back," he offers nonchalantly. "The same thing happened yesterday too."
Jaehyun accepts the answer easily, having been too preoccupied with avoiding being snagged on brambles to have looked back himself. He hums in understanding as he takes Doyoung by the hand to steer him out of the way of a group of rambunctious tourists.
When the near-audible grumble of their stomachs encourages them to make haste, Jaehyun scopes out a currency exchange counter. He thumbs through a stack of bills in his wallet, only to pause at the feeling of a gentle tugging at his elbow.
"Do you want me to pitch in?"
Jaehyun contemplates it for less than a second before he shakes his head and fishes a generous sum out of his wallet. "It’s fine, Doyoung. Consider it payback for yesterday."
Doyoung’s brows quirk upwards in surprise, and his hand drops from where it had been clinging to Jaehyun's sleeve. "A gentleman," he remarks, the word sounding velvet in his mouth.
"I do try."
They have breakfast on the outdoor terrace of a quaint cafe, the both of them too enamored with fresh chocolate croissants to contribute anything useful to the conversation.
After their cups have been drained and their appetites sated, Doyoung picks flecks of buttery pastry off his plate, touching them to his tongue before finally addressing Jaehyun.
"So, Jaehyunie, where did you want to go today?"
"You're the one that wanted to come here," Jaehyun points out, tone mild as he sips at his latte. "Isn't there somewhere you really wanted to go?"
Doyoung scoops the last scrapings of yogurt from the bowl in front of him before gracing him with an answer. "Truthfully, I wanted to visit the Louvre. But if you don't want to, we can think of something else."
Jaehyun tilts his coffee cup, admiring the way the dregs trudge across the bottom. "Oh, Doyoung. I love art museums. Few places are better for a date."
The scowl that Doyoung tosses his direction lacks bite. "Cheeky brat."
"You're stuck with me," Jaehyun reminds him cheerfully. "You asked me to come with you, remember?" He stands up from the table, Doyoung’s grumbling in his ears, as he drops their payment on the table and ventures back into the cacophony of the morning streets.
By the time they arrive in front of the Louvre, it's almost noon. The towering glass pyramid is even more magnificent up close, and Jaehyun plays willing assistant to Doyoung’s photography before paying their admission and filing into the dizzyingly long line.
Doyoung's expression goes placid at the prospect of an hour-long wait as he shuffles his feet with restless energy. His demeanor, coupled with the comically large yellow-tinted sunglasses he'd picked up because the sun was simply too bright, makes for a sight that Jaehyun can't help but stare at.
"What?" Doyoung turns to him scoldingly, as if aggrieved anyone would think his fashion choices a source of entertainment. "At least I’m not the one who chugs plain coffee like a monster." He turns his nose up in mock pride, and Jaehyun exhales an amused breath.
"We're literally in France?" he challenges, savoring the way it causes Doyoung’s brow to furrow. "I'd rather have coffee the authentic way than the pile of milk and sugar you drank."
Doyoung puffs out his cheeks indignantly, no doubt preparing to steamroll him with a rebuttal, and the display only makes Jaehyun want to bicker with him more.
To their surprise, the hour passes quickly enough.
From the one of four entrances they chose at random, they emerge in a sculpture garden. The composition of the museum is a study in elegance, with the scattered artworks a perfect balance of ostentatious and demure. The sculptures lining the walkways seem to beckon them forward, leaving Jaehyun to marvel at their presence and squint at their details.
Atop the nearby stairs a crowd mingles around the base of the statue of a winged woman, her marble gown fluttering in the wind. The details are fine enough that if Nike, as the descriptive plaque calls her, unfurled her wings and took flight at that very moment, it would hardly surprise him.
Doyoung, ever the pragmatist, moves quickly to swipe a brochure from the tourist kiosk as they pass by. "We should plan our route efficiently," he announces, snapping Jaehyun out of his stupor. “So we can spend the least energy seeing the most exhibits.” He eyes Jaehyun warily, as if expecting a challenge, but Jaehyun only shrugs amicably.
“Of course.” He hunches over the map with Doyoung as the latter traces his pointer finger over the map.
"Okay," Doyoung chirps. "There's a staircase by the Near Eastern and Egyptian Art section, so let's hit up the Islamic Art section before going there."
Jaehyun doesn’t know whether it’s a desire to be away from the crowd or just plain assertiveness that compels Doyoung to grab his sleeve and tug him in the direction of his proposed path. He’s not offended, only surprised as Doyoung weaves them in and out of the crowd with ease.
It’s a welcome change, at least. The Doyoung of yesterday had carried himself like he cradled a secret at the tip of his tongue, wound tightest with worry when he thought Jaehyun wasn’t looking. But he suspects that the Doyoung of today, bickering with him unprovoked and steering him through the crowd like he’s a rag doll, is closer to his usual self: more free of that tension.
Jaehyun doesn't say any of that out loud, of course. Instead what escapes his mouth when Doyoung casts him a perfunctory glance is, "You're quite assertive, aren't you, hyung?"
Jaehyun sends a pointed look to where Doyoung is still gripping his sleeve and the latter scowls. The scandalized expression on Doyoung’s face as he releases his sleeve is easily more amusing than the artwork. Suppressing the bubble of laughter in his chest, Jaehyun fishes Doyoung’s hand back from him and clasps it against his own, daring to give a slight squeeze.
"I understand you don’t want to lose me,” Jaehyun lilts, “But maybe we should try this instead. Best first date material, remember?" he declares, far more cheeky than he has any right to be, and oh, if looks could kill.
Doyoung, to his credit, does not murder Jaehyun even a little bit, does not even fight him really except for a heated mumble that doesn’t quite reach Jaehyun’s ears. They make it through the two exhibits in relative tranquility, and only after they climb the stairs does Doyoung dislodge their hands to pore over the map again.
They reach the French painting section on the second floor. There's smirking portraits of kings, dynamic glorifications of battles, a trickster conning a young lady and bony men clinging to a dilapidated raft. Like everything else in the museum, the paintings are stunning: every emotion and triviality compressed into a single moment, coaxed to life by the fine strokes of a brush. Doyoung admires the works alongside him, offering the occasional comment, and it's a special kind of peace.
It's in front of The Disembarkment of Cleopatra at Tarsus that Doyoung breaks the calm.
"Jaehyun," he intones.
Jaehyun only hums in response. He's busy admiring the pure quality of the painting, how the sunlight washes over everything anew. It's hard to believe the subject matter is a queen preparing to enchant a prospective lover.
"Has looking at these given you any inspiration?"
Jaehyun turns to Doyoung in surprise, taken aback by the question. But he guesses it's to be expected after what he told Doyoung when they first met.
"It hasn't," Jaehyun admits, dejectedly. "Everything is beautiful - and complex, obviously - but I can't say this does much more for my inspiration than looking at artwork through a screen."
"Hmm." Doyoung’s resulting hum is blasé, and Jaehyun is briefly thankful that the other boy isn't disappointed in him. He values Doyoung’s opinion more than he should, it seems.
But Doyoung isn't done yet.
"Well," he starts, "maybe we need to get to the root of the problem. Why did you become a writer in the first place?" Doyoung's gaze is curious, wide-eyed and searching, and it leaves Jaehyun feeling pinned.
This doesn't seem to be the conversation to be having now, in the middle of a crowded art gallery, with the melodic chimes of French floating through the air.
But Doyoung has asked, and Jaehyun will do his best to oblige.
"When I was younger," he begins, exhaling to collect himself, "I was able to do well in a lot of things." Well aware of how obnoxious he sounds, he hastily pushes on.
"So I didn’t know what to do for a long time. I tried out a little bit of everything, and in the end I didn't know what direction to go."
Doyoung absorbs the information quietly, but his encouraging hum spurs Jaehyun on to continue.
"Eventually my parents suggested I do something that I think no one else can. At that time I happened to be in my school newspaper club, and I'd tried a bit of writing. I figured that if no one was telling the exact same stories I was, then I was probably doing something no one else could do."
"And your family supported your choice?" Doyoung asks.
"Wholeheartedly. There wasn’t a lot of pressure to earn -” he mentally slaps himself at the unintentional boast, because he must seriously sound like an ass by now, “- so it would be okay even if I failed,” he finishes quietly. He feels strangely vulnerable bearing his woes, and already the coils of regret begin to churn deep inside his gut.
The feeling is dispelled at the light touch of a hand on his. Doyoung.
“But you didn’t,” Doyoung reminds him, his voice soft and level, sympathy washing over Jaehyun like a summer rain. “You didn’t fail.”
“Not yet,” Jaehyun murmurs back, because he is a pragmatist too and this has always been his biggest worry: pouring his heart into a career only to eventually tire of it and abandon it like he’s done to so many other hobbies in the past.
Jaehyun sighs. He reminds himself that this is not the place to entertain these thoughts, nor is this Doyoung’s burden to bear. “Sorry about that,” he confesses, doing his best to feign indifference. “I didn’t mean to be so pessimistic, but I appreciate your support.”
Doyoung isn’t falling for it, mouth pressed into a frown as his fingertips trail a soothing caress down the back of Jaehyun’s hand. He shakes his head. “It’s okay to be worried, Jaehyun. But I think we’ll get there. The date on the calendars today is the same as yesterday, didn’t you see? So we have all the time in the world to find something to fix your writer’s block.”
Not for the first time, Jaehyun is struck silent. Doyoung’s eyes are gazing into his, resolute and pure, and Jaehyun doesn’t remember the last time he felt so transparent.
It’s a feeling he could get used to.
---
"You know, I didn't really expect you to be the romantic type."
Doyoung scowls at him, but Jaehyun has been picking on him enough today to know it's all bark and no bite. It’s also tragically difficult to look threatening with a macaron crumb resting on the seam of one’s lips, but Jaehyun decides to not point that fact out to Doyoung.
"I am not," Doyoung articulates, "the romantic type. But doesn't everyone want to see the Eiffel tower at least once in their life?"
"Of course," Jaehyun agrees, sugary sweet, and before Doyoung can deal him bodily harm he simply chuckles and ventures further ahead. It’s just over a forty minute walk from the Louvre to the Eiffel tower, and Jaehyun would be damned if he didn’t have at least some fun while doing it.
The cobblestones lining the river Seine are pockmarked and wide, and after twenty minutes of strolling across them Doyoung comes to an abrupt stop - the muffled clicks of his shoes pausing with him.
Quizzically, Jaehyun turns around, and is met with the mischievous slant of Doyoung’s eyes.
"Jaehyunie," he calls, insistently. "Let's play a game. If you step on the lines -" he gestures vaguely groundward, "-you lose."
He takes an exaggerated step to illustrate his point, one which sends him careening forward into Jaehyun’s space, and he braces himself by splaying his fingers on Jaehyun's shoulders.
"See?" Doyoung asks pointedly. He taps his heel against the stone, where it rests a comfortable distance from the weather-worn lines of grout.
Jaehyun registers the observation, distantly, but he's more preoccupied with the way Doyoung’s fingers are still curled around his shoulders. It's too close, and in a way more intimate than Doyoung drowsily clonking out on his shoulder the previous night. This - the coy look that Doyoung is giving him like they're sharing a secret - this is deliberate.
The spell is broken when Jaehyun breaks eye contact and swallows, hoping it'll ward off the dryness in his throat. "Are you sure you're older than me?" he remarks airily, trying his best to not succumb to the temptation of glancing down into Doyoung’s pretty, pretty eyes.
He feels Doyoung huff a dramatic sigh, more air than annoyance, but before he can open his mouth to say anything Jaehyun takes a similarly exaggerated step forward to land on the next stone.
"Try not to lose at your own game, hyung," he calls behind him as he takes another step, and another. He hears Doyoung click his tongue in frustration before advancing on Jaehyun, and the triumphant grin he wears when he passes him makes Jaehyun's heart sing.
He is well aware of how ridiculous they look: grown men tangled up in children's games in the ambiguous darkness of the riverbank. But Doyoung is a striking sight in the moonlight and the Eiffel tower is almost as beautiful, its bright white lights shimmering like punctures in the sky, and for now this is enough for Jaehyun.
He's glad he came.
---
The first thing that strikes him in their next destination is the abundance of gray.
Jaehyun hadn’t been sure where they were going for a long time, as the minutes leading up to their destination had been a long stretch of street signs and monotony and urban crawl. He'd been reasonably certain of one thing, from the scarce English he'd managed to pick off the signs: they were in America.
Doyoung, a bit rumpled and sleepy from the day before, nudges Jaehyun out of the train with all the grace expected of someone who’d spent the last few hours in slumber. They emerge on a cracked, gray sidewalk, with a persistent dandelion squeezing its way through the concrete.
By the time Jaehyun turns around the train is already gone, and this time he mirrors Doyoung’s shrug. It had returned yesterday when they needed it, just like Doyoung said it would, and he’s reasonably confident the same will hold true today.
He tries not to stare as Doyoung stifles a yawn into the cuff of his white long-sleeve as he stretches his neck this way and that. Instead, he sweeps his eyes over the stretch of street they’ve landed on, dotted with restaurants and parking lots, before a sharp ray of sunlight forces him to shield his eyes.
The light, as it turns out, is an errant refraction from the massive building just across the street from them. The building is shaped like a ship, with the port side of the hull covered with a layer of decorative glass windows. At the top lies a simple sign of a cerulean capital letter “G”, stylized with protrusions that resemble a fishtail.
Doyoung makes a contemplative noise. “Should we check it out?”
“As you wish.”
Doyoung simply shoulder checks him on the way to the nearest pedestrian crossing before pressing the button and awaiting their turn to cross.
The first thing they’re greeted with when they enter the building is a plaza with colorful LED panels hanging overhead. The lights emanate a soft neon glow, a stark contrast to the bustle of families and couples milling around.
“Welcome to Georgia Aquarium!” is proudly displayed by a TV hanging on the far wall.
“You wanted to go to an aquarium?” Jaehyun turns to his companion.
Doyoung’s smile is full of mirth as he replies. “I guess so? I always enjoyed them when I was little.” He bites at his lip. “But last night, I accidentally fell asleep before I could make up my mind where I wanted us to go. I guess my subconscious memories from that time led us here, but I’m not sure what led us to this aquarium in particular.”
Jaehyun inclines his head curiously before tugging on Doyoung’s arm to steer him out of the way of a mother and child. “And you’ve never been to Atlanta before?” he asks over his shoulder as he leads them both towards the ticket counter.
“Nope.”
“Then I’m not sure why we ended up here either. But there’s a first time for everything, I guess.”
Jaehyun uses his credit card to pay for the tickets, feeling relieved when the foreign charge is approved. He’d notified his credit card company that he was planning to travel, but in hindsight he’d never told them how far.
Doyoung is bouncing on the balls of his feet behind him, with a map of the aquarium already in hand. The familiarity stokes a fond feeling in Jaehyun.
It’s a charming sight, watching Doyoung roam and point and stare at the various aquatic life. From the slithering movements of eels to the gelatinous melons of beluga whales to the stationary, severe posture of king crabs, Doyoung watches it all with carefree wonder. He chats to Jaehyun at a mile a minute about the most mundane of observations - that fish looked at him a certain way, they should take a picture here - that Jaehyun doesn’t know how he’d ever perceived him as quiet and mysterious when they first met.
Well, the quiet part is definitely disproven. But the truth is, for all of his affection towards the other, there’s a lot about Doyoung he doesn’t know.
He watches Doyoung stare at the hulking profile of a whale shark swimming beyond the glass. The latter seems to notice the weight of his gaze, and he turns to Jaehyun with a small smile. “They call it a shark but it’s actually the world’s largest fish. Misleading, isn’t it?”
Jaehyun hums in response.
Doyoung faces the glass again, looking small against the spotted whale - well, fish - hovering in the foreground. “I used to talk nonstop about that stuff all the time when I was a kid,” Doyoung continues, the shadows of the aquarium painting muted blue light across his face. “My uncle wanted to buy a pair of earplugs.” A self-deprecating laugh, and then, “Even now my roommate says I made the right choice in getting a job where I argue with people all day."
The expression on Doyoung’s face is wistful and fond, and it makes Jaehyun feel at ease. "Your roommate?" he asks.
Doyoung nods, turning to meet Jaehyun's eyes. "Taeyong's in fashion school right now, but we've known each other since we were teenagers. We have an agreement that if his designer career doesn't take off in the future he's welcome to come live in my basement."
"You guys seem close."
Doyoung laughs. "You could say that. He's still insufferable though."
Doyoung begins walking them away from the glass and further down the hallway. "What about you, Jaehyun? Do you live by yourself?"
Jaehyun's steps falter. He thinks of his minimalistic apartment, the single coffee cup that sits on his desk every day, the stillness that pervades when he does his work and takes his meals and goes to sleep. The background music he puts on in his apartment can fill the silence but not the emptiness. "I do," he answers, belatedly, but Doyoung doesn’t comment on it. "I'll admit it gets boring, but sometimes it’s easier to live by yourself." He busies himself by looking at the underside of a manta ray that seems to smile mischievously down at them, and wonders how much of his admission was the truth.
“Tell me about it,” Doyoung scoffs easily, and in his peripheral vision Jaehyun catches the exasperated eye roll. “Taeyong hoards so many trinkets in our apartment that I suspect he’s mistaken it for a nest.”
They have their fun. Jaehyun helps the trainer feed the dolphins, Doyoung holds his hand in the dark room of bioluminescent jellyfish, and Jaehyun soothes the other when he bonks against the glass underneath the puffin exhibit. It's only after three hours, each slurping at overpriced smoothies, that they reach the gift shop.
"Are you gonna buy something for Taeyong?" Jaehyun inquires, running a hand along the row of keychains with miniature plastic tanks and even tinier plastic fish. The resulting clinking sound of plastic on plastic is pleasant to his ears, and Jaehyun quirks his mouth in contemplation. What kind of souvenir would a fashion student like?
"Hmm?" Doyoung looks up at him slowly, having been preoccupied with squeezing a plush otter from the toy bin. "Oh," Doyoung intones, but something about the syllable is stilted and wrong. He steps closer to Jaehyun and offers a placating chuckle, but the gesture is more a puff of air than anything. "I don't need to worry about that. I probably shouldn’t encourage his hoarding even more, and it’s not like he’d like anything here anyway."
It’s unnatural. While Doyoung has a habit of talking swiftly and often, words dripping like quicksilver off his tongue, there is something different this time: something blunt that attempts to barrel through the sentence before he’s even properly regained his breath.
He’s a poor liar.
Jaehyun could easily inquire why Doyoung is so certain his roommate wouldn’t like anything when they haven’t even looked through the whole store yet. But his response dies in his throat when he sees Doyoung’s expression, cautious and forlorn. A warning. Or perhaps, a plea.
Either way, he understands not to breach the topic. He will push when Doyoung is less uncertain about it, when he has the confidence to meet Jaehyun’s eyes.
Jaehyun wets his lips, keenly aware of the juxtaposition between the moisture of his tongue and the dryness of his throat. He’s about to reply when he’s interrupted, again.
“Jaehyun,” Doyoung insists, tone urgent but not unkind. “I wouldn’t hide anything that has the potential to hurt you. We’ll be okay. I just need you to trust me on this.” His tone is soft, gaze averted, and Jaehyun loathes the reality of how weak he is, how helpless he is when Doyoung begs him like this.
“It’s fine, hyung,” he soothes with that trademark dimpled smile, and as the tension melts off of Doyoung’s face he wonders if the action provides a fraction of the comfort that Doyoung does to him.
“I won’t force you on anything else, but let’s at least look at the hoodie section before we go. The train gets kinda cold at night and I’m tired of you hogging the blanket.”
Doyoung takes to the change of topic easily, something like gratitude washing over his face, and within minutes he’s holding up hoodies next to Jaehyun and asking which color he likes best.
Blue looks nice on Doyoung, and Jaehyun says as much, if only to see the shy expression that blooms onto his face.
---
"I think I know why we ended up in America," Jaehyun says that evening, in between bites of his dinner.
Doyoung, with a touch less grace, looks up from where he’s chewing on his own cheeseburger. "Hm?"
Jaehyun sets his sandwich in his lap and sips at his cup of soda, the liquid burning bubbly and sweet down his throat. He spares a glance at Doyoung, sitting next to him on the faded wooden park bench, before he begins.
"I spent some years abroad as a kid. We lived in Connecticut but my dad took us all over the east coast for his work. I think, seeing a part of your childhood subconsciously reminded me of mine."
Doyoung tilts his head. "You wanted to return here?" he asks before munching on a fry. The action is strikingly similar to a bunny, but Jaehyun's sense of self-preservation keeps the thought in his head.
"Maybe? I have mixed feelings about that part of my childhood. I'm grateful for all my parents gave me, but sometimes -" Jaehyun pauses. That was a major contributor, wasn't it? To the shyness, the introversion. To the fact that even after graduating university there's only a handful of people he keeps in contact with, and even fewer that he meets with every few weeks.
Doyoung seems to sense his mood, his dark eyes somber. "Was it hard to fit in here?"
Jaehyun hums. "A little bit. I enjoyed my time here, even though the language barrier was rough at first." For a moment, he’s mesmerized by the streetlights reflecting off the passing cars as he takes another sip of his drink.
"By the time I returned to Korea my old friends and I had mostly drifted apart. It wasn't like I was trying to isolate myself, but I think a lot of people saw me as unapproachable." Jaehyun pauses, running a hand through his hair. "But that never really bothered me too much."
There’s a moment of silence, and again that rueful feeling rises in his abdomen. Why unload his past on Doyoung, when the other probably doesn’t even care? Jaehyun is just a person who happened to be caught in an extraordinary circumstance with him, and Doyoung doesn’t owe him anything. Least of all should Doyoung entertain Jaehyun’s presumptuous desire to be understood.
For a few moments, there is only the staccato sounds of urban night and the aftertaste of salt and grease on his tongue. Then, with a delicate tone akin to plucking the words out of the air, Doyoung says, "You don't seem unapproachable to me."
Snapping out of his stupor, Jaehyun glances at Doyoung as the latter slurps up the dregs of his soda. "Really?"
"I think you get lost in your own head a lot, and find a little too much joy in riling me up. But that doesn’t make you a bad person.” It’s quiet now, unnaturally still, and Jaehyun can hear the sounds of their breathing. “On the contrary, you did decide to go on this trip with me, so that has to count for something.”
“There was something in it for me, too,” Jaehyun reminds him gently.
“You didn’t know that for sure. You just chose to trust me, and have gone along with my every whim since. So either you’re very kind, or very naive. Pick one, I guess.” He grins at Jaehyun, gummy and boyish, as he snatches up the empty food wrappers and tosses them in the nearest trash can.
"Come on," he says as he tugs on Jaehyun's black hoodie sleeve, with roughness in the gesture but gentleness in his eyes. "I want us to get to the SkyView before they close."
Head still reeling, Jaehyun obliges, and they arrive at the famous ferris wheel well over half an hour before it closes.
Doyoung is mostly silent as they ascend. Across from Jaehyun, he stares out the window - at the myriad lights of buildings and lampposts and cars that will soon be twenty stories beneath their feet. He looks content to absorb the scenery, the barest of peaceful smiles playing on his lips, but for all the wonder below them Jaehyun is inclined to stare at him.
Doyoung notices, as he always does.
"You alright, Jaehyun?" There's satisfaction in his voice, and Jaehyun is almost certain that he knows but there is no immediate exit out of this gondola that would spare Jaehyun a grisly demise. Jaehyun swallows, and resigns himself to his fate.
"I'm fine."
Doyoung hums in disbelief as he meets Jaehyun's eyes, looking ridiculously cozy in the hoodie that’s identical to Jaehyun's in all but color. He holds the gaze until a brief glance downward confirms they're almost at the top and airy laughter escapes his lips.
"You know, Jaehyun. I’ve heard that once you're at the top of the ferris wheel, you're supposed to make a wish."
Jaehyun purses his lips. "You sure are superstitious."
“Certain circumstances,” Doyoung explains mirthfully, "have allowed me to suspend my disbelief at the impossible."
Jaehyun's hands feel clammy as he appraises the boy in front of him once more. "Okay, let’s say you do get a wish. What are you gonna wish for?"
Doyoung averts his gaze to the skyline. "Aren't these things less effective if you say them out loud?"
“Touché.”
"You should think of something too," Doyoung announces. "Then again, you needed a pretty strong desire to get on the train in the first place, and I doubt your wish has changed since then."
Jaehyun looks at Doyoung, at that distant expression on his face that crops up every so often when he thinks Jaehyun isn't looking.
He thinks it has.
---
There's a mystifying quality to being able to go wherever you want. At some point Jaehyun wonders if the novelty will wear off, if the weariness of travel will catch up to them and the days will begin to drag by. But it doesn't.
When their bodies are strained too far from their rigid sleeping arrangement and perpetual hours of walking, Doyoung isn't above checking into a hotel for a day. Doyoung spares no indulgence on those days, partaking in Netflix and naps and room service all while curled up against Jaehyun’s side.
Jaehyun had thought that Doyoung’s clingy sleeping habits were a product of such scarce room in the train. But most of the hotels they visit have ample room on either of the two beds, and Jaehyun can't help but conclude his hypothesis false.
Jaehyun asks about it the next time couch surfing lulls Doyoung into a midday nap. Doyoung appears confused at the question, hair sticking up in curious places and eyes heavy-lidded with sleep.
"You're warm," is all he says, and Jaehyun is pleased enough to leave it at that.
They go to Singapore and eat chili crab until their stomachs hurt, visit Seville and taste all flavors of bitter at the winery, and travel to Vancouver to walk the pier until the sunset fades to periwinkle.
It's so easy, to laugh and play and drink in all the pleasures the world has to offer and then some.
The reason why is as simple and inevitable as the feeling that unfurls within his chest whenever Doyoung stares at him a little too long, whenever Jaehyun uses the excuse of a bustling crowd to hold his hand.
Happiness is by Doyoung’s side.
---
It's unusual for them to be dropped off in an actual subway station. The hiss of the subway fills their ears as the crowd of passengers walks around them on either side, some bumping elbows in their haste.
They receive some curious glances, as the only disoriented tourists in a sea of people mostly clad in business attire. Doyoung, rarely one to act timid, shuffles closer to him, and it's a satisfying feeling.
Jaehyun scans his eyes over the white-tiled pattern of the subway walls until he finally spots a color-coded map of the convoluted routes.
Kanji is similar enough to hanja, so they should be able to make their way around just fine.
They walk further down the subway tunnel, mostly following the flow of the crowd, and ride an escalator and climb the stairs before emerging onto the streets of Tokyo.
The map outside the station confirms they've landed in Asakusa.
"Should we go to the temple?" Jaehyun pops the last syllable as he turns an inquiring eye at Doyoung, and the latter nods.
For the most they've made itineraries for all the cities they want to go to, with Doyoung monopolizing Jaehyun's notebook to pen down the details in his characteristic messy scrawl. Doyoung's zeal for planning and Jaehyun’s willingness to try new things makes it an uncomplicated affair, all fervent whispers and hunched heads in the twilight of the train.
A yawn slips out of Doyoung’s mouth, and as he muffles it with the back of his palm a fond look crests upon Jaehyun's face. The tendency of the train to drop them off in the early hours of morning, while efficient, is not terribly compatible with Doyoung’s sleep schedule.
They purchase mochi donuts and iced coffee at a corner shop to stave off the older's grogginess, and Doyoung happily munches on the fluffy sweet during the short walk to the temple gate.
The paper lantern hanging under the gate is emblazoned with the character for thunder, and beyond its imposing figure are rows and rows of trinket shops, colorful and enticing.
They get distracted by window shopping for the better part of an hour, going down the aisles and examining this and that until their coffees are reduced to ice cubes clattering around the plastic cups.
"Sure you don't want anything?" Jaehyun asks, speaking almost directly into the shell of Doyoung's ear. By now they are used to cacophonous places, but that doesn't make it any easier to be heard.
Doyoung shakes his head dismissively.
"Are you really sure? I'll buy it for you." Jaehyun is acutely aware of the feeling of Doyoung pressed against him in the cramped space, and it emboldens him.
Another gentle refusal, and Doyoung leans over to speak into Jaehyun’s ear. "It’s fine, Jaehyunie. Maybe next time," he assuages. Doyoung's lips brush against Jaehyun’s ears as he withdraws, and he shivers at the contact.
When they finally reach the Sensoji temple, it's exactly how it looked in the pictures: a wide pavilion of crimson columns embossed with gold, with dark tiles lining the curved roofs. The well-preserved architecture, with its richness of hues, carries itself with a timeless elegance. Inside, the sounds of people clapping and tossing coins can be heard even at a distance, and outside fellow tourists gather to photograph the pagoda at the periphery.
But the more interesting activity, to the both of them at least, is the fortune telling station further down the dirt paved plaza. Doyoung goes first, clutching the container of wooden sticks and shaking it with a vengeance, and the concentrated furrow between his brows has Jaehyun suppressing a snicker. He draws a wooden stick out of the container and glances at the number written there before waiting for Jaehyun to draw a stick as well. The corresponding numbered drawers are tucked away at the periphery of the plaza, pockets of possibility lined up in neat columns and rows.
Doyoung slides open the drawer marked "26" and eagerly fishes out one of the sheets of paper inside, only for his face to fall once he sees what's written there. Jaehyun peers over his shoulder. He doesn't know enough Japanese to read most of it, but the Chinese character for "curse" is printed in stark, black ink at the top.
Doyoung's mouth creases and Jaehyun wants to wipe the expression off his face. "It’s fine, Doyoung," he reassures. "These things are only for fun anyway."
Doyoung's begrudging agreement quickly morphs back into disdain when Jaehyun's fortune reads "great blessing."
"This is rigged," he gripes, even as he folds the paper into a horizontal strip to tie to the nearby pine tree.
Jaehyun's face shines with mirth as he admires the paper fortunes tethered to the scaly branches of the tree and fluttering gaily in the wind.
"It's not rigged, Doyoung," he declares, proudly meeting the other's eyes. "Maybe I'm just the lucky one."
He graces Doyoung with a winning smile, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and usually secures him victory in their little game.
But Doyoung doesn't scoff, or push him away, or do anything but pluck an errant pine leaf out of Jaehyun's hair, smoothing the spot over with his fingers.
"You're insufferable," Doyoung whispers, a tender expression on his face as he maintains eye contact, and for once Jaehyun is the one who's lost.
---
Sumida Park is scenic and quiet from its perch overlooking the river. Overhead the cherry blossoms rustle like they're sharing a secret, and across from them the moon looks oblong and pale in its distorted reflection across the dark waters.
It's picturesque.
Sprawled on the grass beside him, Doyoung reaches into the convenience store bag loosely dangling off his wrist to pluck out a melon bread. The sound of crinkling plastic is distinct as he bites into the crosshatched surface with gusto.
Jaehyun tangles his fingers in the soft grass as he mentally catalogues the escapades of the day. Eating spiced oysters at the fish market, feeding the deer at Nara, pursuing the aromas of sizzling street food. It was an ambitious day - moreso than usual - and he shares this observation with Doyoung.
Doyoung takes another large bite of melon bread, chewing thoughtfully before he swallows. "I know," he says, bowing his head. "I wanted us to go to a lot of places today, because the longer this goes on, the more I worry that it'll end soon." He falls silent then, busying himself with chewing, but the uncharacteristic hesitation coloring his voice does not escape Jaehyun.
He reaches out a hand, wordlessly, and Doyoung passes him the bag. He unwraps his bread as he thinks about how to respond.
"An eternal vacation does sound nice," Jaehyun agrees, taking a bite. "But I'm sure we would run out of money at some point. Besides, don't you have things to get back to in your normal life?"
Doyoung hums in contemplation, withdrawing a glass bottle from the bag and popping off the top. "I'm finally done with the bar exam, so I have a few interviews lined up. I was even planning on performing a few weekend singing gigs at my friend Johnny's bar, until-"
Doyoung cuts himself off mid-speech, and suddenly takes an intense interest in the cheap convenience store sake he gulps down.
It's a familiar behavior to Jaehyun: that walled-off expression that Doyoung has a tendency to make. But as much as Jaehyun wants to pry, as desperately as Jaehyun wants to know him, more important is that he waits for Doyoung to tell him when he's ready.
There's a weariness to Doyoung’s stature as he ruminates silently on the grass. Wordlessly, Jaehyun crumples the plastic wrap of his finished bread and extends his hand towards the plastic bag.
Doyoung reaches for the trash, intending to place it in the bag, and makes a curious noise when instead of plastic his fingertips are met with smoothly embroidered silk.
With a flourish, Jaehyun deposits the small item into his palm. The orange thread sealing the flat cerulean pouch glitters in the light.
"What's this?" Doyoung’s brow quirks upward in surprise as he strokes a thumb over the pouch.
"It’s a lucky charm," Jaehyun explains, heat rising up his ears even as he savors the look of wonder in Doyoung’s eyes. "I bought it at the temple while you were using the restroom.
Doyoung sputters. "You shouldn't have -"
"I wanted to," Jaehyun insists, swallowing hard. "I know you said you didn't want anything, but you were so grumpy after your bad fortune that I thought it'd cheer you up."
"Oh." The syllable is languid as honey, all the fight drained out of him, and Doyoung closes his eyes contentedly as he cradles the gift to his chest. "Thank you."
Jaehyun is about to open his mouth to murmur a platitude back when he's interrupted by the sound of his name rolling off Doyoung's tongue.
"Jaehyun, I told you how I grew up with an older brother, right? But I'm still not used to being taken care of like this. I know that you tuck the blanket around me every night when I'm almost asleep. And you order for both of us when I don't feel like speaking English, and even when we go to the places I’m interested in you hardly let me pay for anything." The words are spilling out, tongue loosened by alcohol, and when he finally casts a sidelong glance at Jaehyun it's unrestrained and bright.
"It's comfortable being with you, Jaehyun. And that's one of the reasons I'll miss all of this," Doyoung confesses, smiling wryly as he places a gentle hand on Jaehyun's knee.
The rustle of wind overhead sends a rush of pale petals above them. Doyoung’s eyes are dark and shining with sincerity, and it lends Jaehyun courage.
"Have you heard of mono no aware?"
"Tell me about it," Doyoung implores as he moves closer, acrid sweetness clinging to his breath.
"Some things are more beautiful because they must end."
He doesn't know who leans in first, but soon his fingers are threading through soft black hair, and his first kiss with Doyoung tastes like sugar and cheap grape sake and an intoxication that has nothing to do with the alcohol. Doyoung sighs into his mouth and Jaehyun tugs him closer through their joined hands, because he's been waiting for weeks and it's just as swoon-inducing as he'd imagined.
When they pull away for air Jaehyun admires the sight of Doyoung’s cherry-red, bitten lips, the cloudy look in his eyes, and the delicate pink that dusts his cheeks. It was only a kiss, but Doyoung looks as blissed out as Jaehyun feels, and Jaehyun can still feel the tingling on his mouth.
They linger there for a few moments, both a little starstruck, both a little in disbelief, until Doyoung lifts their joined hands to his rapidly beating heart.
"I'm not letting you go."
---
They take just one day to visit a small house in Guri, South Korea, inconspicuous and lined with cosmos flowers. It radiates an aura of comfort, and the woman that answers them at the door has a smile as bright as her son's.
"He's always been selfless," Doyoung’s mother confides in him after dinner. "Always looking after everyone else, and always doing everything to keep other people happy. But when I see him with you it seems like some of that weight is gone. I wonder if I can trust you to look after him."
It's a loaded question, one that Jaehyun carries with him as he watches Doyoung beside him on the train. It's evening, and the sky is just beginning to bleed purple, casting shadows over the train window.
Doyoung glances at the darkening sky and exhales, and Jaehyun squeezes his hand in reassurance.
"What's wrong, Doie?" His tone is tender, like a caress, and it feels intimate in the quiet of the train.
Doyoung pockets his earbuds and sits up, gently disconnecting their hands. He won't meet Jaehyun's eyes, and it makes Jaehyun immediately uneasy.
"Baby," Doyoung sighs, and it's a defeated sound. "There's something I've been keeping from you."
"I know. But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
Doyoung runs an exasperated hand through his hair and shrugs off Jaehyun's attempt to comfort him. "But I do."
Doyoung looks tired in the fading evening light. "Do you remember when I told you," he pauses, "that this is a train where everyone gets what they want?"
"Of course." That day seems so long ago, now.
"Then, let's say there's different magnitudes of wants. You came here because you hoped a vacation would fix your early-career crisis, and I came here because I wanted to travel the world. But the thing is, I never intended to travel in the first place."
What?
Doyoung exhales. "On that morning, I didn't plan for anything out of the ordinary. All I wanted was to run a few errands before my afternoon job interview." He takes a measured breath. "It was on the way to the grocery store. And the other car, he -" Doyoung falters, his mouth tightening into a narrow line. "I mean, it doesn't get any more preventable than that. For whatever reason, he made the conscious, stupid decision to run that red light, and I didn't see him coming in time."
Jaehyun's stomach drops, and dread catches up to him sooner than his brain can process the meaning of the words.
"Someone called an ambulance. They must've, because the next thing I remember is being wheeled through the hallway on a gurney. I was already delirious on painkillers at that point, but I was overcome with the certainty that I was going to die. I remembered the most recent time I'd flown overseas to visit Donghyun, and I thought about how nice it would be to travel the world one last time."
"And then," Doyoung continues, sounding clipped and resigned and not at all like himself, "I ended up here."
"As your dying wish." Jaehyun's mind comprehends it, but there is no denying the pressure building within his ribcage that coils somewhere around his heart. The strength of his grief disorients him, scattering his thoughts as quickly as they emerge, and then there is Doyoung - patient Doyoung, who is only watching him with his hands folded in his lap.
"I'm sorry," Doyoung admits, solemn but calm.
He'd lied to him. Doyoung had promised he wouldn't hide anything that would hurt him. But this is not about Jaehyun and his wounded feelings, so he pushes the thought down.
"Doyoung," he laments. "Are you already gone? Or just in critical condition somewhere?"
"My body is still at the hospital, if that's what you're asking." Doyoung closes his eyes and his brows furrow. "But there’s only one way to find out for certain."
Doyoung sighs, before a wan smile, creased with irony, plays at his mouth. "So how about it? Will you go with me?"
"I'd go anywhere in the world with you, Doyoung." Jaehyun swallows. "You know that."
Doyoung looks stunned for a moment, soft doe-eyes blown wide with surprise, but he regains his composure soon enough. "Sorry about this." His tone is gentle, achingly so. "Our last stop isn't a very exciting one."
As the words leave his lips, the train crosses the shadow of a mountain, bisecting a valley of lushly swaying wildflowers. The sight is in stark contrast to the apathy of the train - to the rhythmic hum across rails that carry them closer and closer to the inevitable.
Doyoung's expression is turbulent, lower lip caught between his teeth, when he finally rests his head on Jaehyun's shoulder again. He’s pointing his problems inward again, taking on all the worries in the world and then some, and Jaehyun wishes he was only half as useless as he felt right now.
He cups Doyoung’s cheek, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and Doyoung sighs into the touch.
“You know,” Doyoung whispers, almost conversationally, “I felt so alone when I first got here. Just miles and miles of landscape with nothing to break the monotony. But then you showed up.” He curls up just the slightest bit tighter, eliminating any remaining distance between himself and Jaehyun. “I pretended not to notice you at first because I didn’t want to give myself false hope. But you were so excited when you approached me. Like a puppy,” he chuckles drily.
“So I let my guard down,” Doyoung confesses. He swings his right leg over both of Jaehyun's to straddle his lap, face hovering inches from Jaehyun as sincerity softens his expression into something fond. “You dropped into my life when I needed someone the most, Jaehyun. That means something, doesn’t it?”
Then Doyoung is kissing him, and whether it’s out of affection or the fact that his world is falling apart around him, Jaehyun can’t be sure. Doyoung tastes like salt and desperation, and when he cups Jaehyun’s face with one of his hands, the tender caress of his fingertips is almost as intimate as the kiss.
“Jaehyun,” Doyoung hums, and it’s a melodic sound. “Do you love me?”
“I do.” Candid and sweet.
Doyoung exhales, and his whole body deflates with the movement, secure within the circle of Jaehyun's arms.
"I'll hold onto that."
---
Doyoung doesn’t belong here.
The hospital is a blur of pristine white and the sharp smell of antiseptic. A sense of solemnity - permeating the muted voices of visitors and the clinical chatter of physicians - follows them all the way up to the twelfth floor door on which they finally find Doyoung’s name.
Not one to waste time, Doyoung pushes open the door.
The room is deathly quiet except for the thrum of the EKG and the white noise of the air conditioning unit. The clipboard at the foot of the bed details the recently completed operation, and for a precious few seconds Jaehyun scans his eyes over it in an attempt to delay the inevitable.
“Looks like I'm still alive,” Doyoung murmurs.
Jaehyun follows his gaze to the motionless boy on the bed, who looks pale and weak in the fluorescent lighting of the room. His hair sticks to his clammy forehead, and more parts of his body are bandaged than not.
Doyoung glances at the calendar in the room. “It’s still the same day as the accident,” he muses. “The same day we’ve been reliving over and over on the train. Once I'm back in my own body, there'll be nothing I can do but wait and see if I wake up again.” There’s an unspoken trepidation hanging off the edges of his words, a blunt edge of defeatedness that digs into Jaehyun’s heart.
“I’ll visit you,” Jaehyun promises, well aware of how futile the action sounds. “I’ll bring you flowers every day.”
“You will?” Doyoung has the mirth to chuckle. “Do you even remember the room number?”
Jaehyun doesn’t - he’d been far too busy wallowing in their shared unease - and at his silence Doyoung casts him a fond look, brushing against his hand before he glances outside the doorway.
“Here, I’ll write it down for you,” Doyoung hums, scribbling on the top page of the memo pad on the nearby table. He rips off the sheet and folds it in two before slipping it into the pocket of Jaehyun’s blazer.
It's an endearing gesture, but when the reality of the situation settles in again Jaehyun finds himself at a loss for words.
The assertiveness with which Doyoung meets his stare suggests he knows exactly what Jaehyun is thinking.
"Jaehyun, this isn't goodbye."
"How do you know that?" Jaehyun tries his best not to sound too pessimistic, because this is not his place to break.
Doyoung catches Jaehyun's hands between his own, squeezing gently. "I don't. But now, more than ever, I have something I want to return to."
"Jaehyun," he says warmly, the name unfurling like a spell as the morning light catches his profile, and the image burns itself into Jaehyun’s mind. "You found what you were looking for, didn't you?"
His lips are parting in reply when an overwhelming feeling of vertigo sends him careening towards the floor, and when he opens his eyes again he's bombarded with the relentless sounds of the train station.
It's five minutes till 8 AM.
Disoriented and feeling more drained than he ever has, Jaehyun wheels his luggage towards a bench and sits down.
It's exactly the same date and time as when he first boarded the train and met Doyoung. It would almost be as if he imagined the whole thing, except-
Frantically, he thumbs through the pocket of his blazer, feeling relief wash over him when he produces a sheet of paper.
Doyoung’s hospital room number.
The thin white paper makes a crisp sound as Jaehyun unfolds it with unsteady fingers. Below the neatly monogrammed hospital logo is Doyoung’s cramped scrawl. But the memo that Doyoung has left him is not a number of any sort.
It's three words.
Wait for me.
---
He likes to choose a classic bouquet for Mondays.
The florist has long since known him by name, and she cheerfully hands over the arrangement of roses, lilies, and baby's breath he'd ordered the day before.
"Does everything look good?"
Jaehyun nods and thanks her, paying for the flowers before venturing once more into the lukewarm embrace of noon.
He walks purposefully, phone tucked into his pocket and bouquet tucked under his arm, but his mind is lost in the clouds.
Absently, he watches the tremble of recently shed rainwater slipping between the cracks of the sidewalk. Overhead, brilliant orange and brown foliage crackle in the wind, the dying leaves waving precariously from their stems like flags of surrender. In front of him, a young couple readjusts their matching scarves as they converse in low, animated voices.
There is so much to write about these days. Permanence and change. The depth of feelings, above all else.
Jaehyun finally reaches the office building and lets himself in the entranceway, fidgeting impatiently as he rides the elevator to the seventh floor.
He gives a friendly nod to the secretary before wading through the maze of cubicles, finally stopping in front of an office towards the back of the floor.
He knocks out of politeness, but the door is already ajar.
"Special delivery," he announces, setting the bouquet down on the immaculate hardwood desk.
He never quite outgrew his stupidly romantic side, but Doyoung doesn't seem to mind.
The lawyer looks up from his desk and instantly the tension drains out of his posture, expression melting into something docile and decidedly sweet. But in a matter of seconds, a wry smirk blossoms across his face instead.
"You do realize," Doyoung points out, "we live together. You could just leave the flowers at the apartment instead of walking all the way here."
Jaehyun pouts, partly because he can and partly because he knows it makes Doyoung weak. "But you get home so late these days, and I wanted to spoil you now. What if you're so knee-deep in your work that you forget how much I adore you?"
Doyoung rolls his eyes, but there’s no denying the faint color that blooms on his cheeks. "You're unbelievable."
He turns back to his case briefing, reading through it or at least pretending to, and Jaehyun wets his lips.
"Take your lunch break with me," he implores, and Doyoung raises an eyebrow in response.
"Always the ulterior motive with you," Doyoung chides, scribbling away.
"Is that a no?" There's a first time for everything.
"It’s a yes." Doyoung clicks his pen closed. He stands up and stretches with a labored groan - Jaehyun makes a mental note to massage him later - and when he makes his way around the desk he plants a quick peck on Jaehyun's cheek. "My treat."
Jaehyun can't help the joy that bubbles up inside his chest, buoyant and bright.
This is all he will ever need.