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“Have you ever wondered what would happen if one of us ever disappeared?”
“What exactly do you mean by disappear?” Changbin knew exactly what Seungmin meant. This wasn’t the first time he asked that question. He’d ask it time and time again, almost as if he knew something—it was like a routine. Seungmin would lay his head on Changbin’s lap and play with the strings of his hoodie like a cat, or reach up and fiddle with his necklace, his earring. He’d give Changbin a few moments of comfort, a minute of false, peaceful security, then asked the question as if it were brand new. And each time, just before the word “disappeared” rolled completely off his tongue, he’d look Changbin dead in the eyes. It was never a soft or pitiful look, nor was it determined or angry or stubborn. In a way, it was pure, almost innocent.
Sometimes, Changbin would ask for more detail. Sometimes, he would change the subject. Other times he’d answer, saying something along the lines of, “That’ll never happen,” and Seungmin would reply, “You never know.” But most times, Changbin simply wouldn’t answer, and Seungmin would move on, never revisiting it until the next time he asked the question. And Changbin resented him for that.
♡
Changbin’s lease ends in three days.
Which means he has three days left to clear everything else in the apartment. Most of his own items are already at Jisung’s place, only leaving the kitchen and… Seungmin’s room.
Heart beating dangerously quietly, he opens the door.
Inside, everything looks exactly the same as when it was last used. There’s some boxes and half opened drawers here and there. Most of them contain dozens of sketchbooks unfinished, and paints that had been opened but never used. There’s an unfinished painting he never managed to clean up simply because it felt wrong, so it’s just been sitting there, paint dried unevenly, supplies starting to build up dust. Somehow it still shines and stands out amongst everything else.
As if time had simply frozen.
“Wait! Stay right there. Don’t move.”
“Wh-”
“I said don’t move! This will only take a second.”
Changbin obediently complies in confusion. He watches Seungmin scuttle around the room to find his film camera. He turns it on, adjusts himself to the spot she was standing in before, and tries to take a picture. Changbin smiles fondly when he sees the puzzled look on Seungmin’s face.
“The lens cap is still on, genius.”
Seungmin laughs sheepishly, taking off the lens cap.
Back then, Seungmin’s smile was the brightest thing, the best thing Changbin had ever seen. He always laughed easily. That day, it was light, full of joy and contentment; but now it’s simply just a sound from the past, another sour reminder that he’s gone.
The film camera still sits in its usual spot, unmoved. Seungmin loved to take photos of Changbin at any and every moment. He loved to paint him, to draw him. Changbin was his muse. All around the room, Seungmin’s artwork was spread, and surely, most of them were Changbin. Hardly any of it was evidence of Seungmin’s existence. Sure, there were some photos, but Changbin was never as good at art to capture Seungmin the way he captured him.
And it’s so unfair.
It’s not fair, because now Changbin is forced to live with the bittersweet memories alone.
It’s not fair, because one day his memories will fade, and everything here will truly be meaningless.
Life is so, so unfair.
Life is so, so cruel.
You are so, so cruel, Seungmin.
A knock resounds from the doorway. It’s Jisung, who Changbin had momentarily forgotten was there, helping him clean up and pack.
“I found these in the cabinet under the sink.”
In his hands is a box filled to the brim with tapes.
“Did you want to keep them?”
He’s never seen those tapes before. Though he does see his handwriting on the side of the box, which he now recognises as something he thought Seungmin had lost. It was one of the anniversary gifts he gave him: a box he filled with letters and notes every day (or, at least he attempted to). He tried searching for it once, wanting to burn them all since there was no use for it anymore.
“I’ll look at them first,” Changbin decides without much thought.
“You need any help in here?” Jisung asks as he hands the box over. Changbin shakes his head. “Let me know if you do, ok? I’ll just be in the kitchen.”
He sets the box on a table, where he can clearly see what’s written on the side. In his handwriting, the words ‘to Seungmin’ are crossed out, replaced underneath with Seungmin’s handwriting.
‘For Changbin.’
And Changbin just stares at it.
His heart begins to swell as he reaches for the tape labelled ‘#1 - Introduction.’ After taking it out of the case, his legs lead him to Seungmin’s cassette player in the left corner of the room, as if it were programmed into his mind. He always wondered why Seungmin chose to put it in such a peculiar place. The sound would be much better if it wasn’t surrounded by so many obstructions.
Breath suspended somewhere in his throat, he inserts the tape and presses play.
“Ahem. Hello. Is this- okay, it’s recording. Hi, Changbin.” Seungmin’s cheerful voice greets him. For a second he feels like he’s going to faint.
“Um, I guess there’s really no easy way to say this but.. I’m dying. And if you’re listening to this right now, I guess that means I’m already gone. So I’ll start off by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I guess I was… afraid. I thought things were going to change between us if I told you, so I just didn’t. And now I realise that was stupid and unfair of me. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Changbin shakes his head. A rush of guilt, anger, and everything in between comes shooting through his chest.
“You’re probably shaking your head at me right now, right?” He has the audacity to chuckle. “Go ahead. Cuss me out too, if you want. And if you want to cry, cry.
Now, onto the purpose of these tapes. Remember those letters you wrote me every day? This is basically my version of those. I thought you might prefer to hear my voice instead of trying to imagine it through my handwriting.
I know lugging an old cassette deck around isn’t the most ideal thing, so you can always use the walkman in the drawer if you really want to bring me with you. If you can figure out how to use it, haha. I mean, you could re-record these onto your phone or something, but the image of you walking around with a walkman is a lot more fun. Anyways, feel free to play these in order. Or not. I did number them in the order that I made them, but they’re all basically standalone.”
There’s still a couple more seconds left, but Changbin pauses it with a deep breath. His eyes can’t help but overflow with tears after hearing Seungmin’s voice again. It feels so much more real this time, almost brand new. Nothing like the wistful memories left in his mind, or the old videos and voice memos and recorded calls on his phone. On the tape, Seungmin’s voice is almost… tangible.
He presses play again, and before he knows it, his tears evolve into broken sobs.
“That’s the end of this first recording. Thank you, Changbin, for everything. Again, I’m sorry. I love you.”