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Taeyong,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. If you are reading this, I am dead.
📝
Word gets around fast when you live in a small village.
“There is a family moving here,” Taeyong’s aunt told him three days after he turned ten. “They are all human. Be careful around them.”
The words echo in his head as a leaf crunches under his foot. Despite his aunt’s warning, Taeyong caught a glimpse of the family and immediately followed the boy who wandered off. He was small, smaller than Taeyong, and he was headed to the river.
Taeyong was a dangerously curious child. It was in his blood, being an Elf meant wanting to go out and explore, wanting to meet new people and see new things. A new family moving in was the most excitement the small village had seen in years.
A little peek couldn’t hurt.
The crunch of the leaf made the boy pause. He whipped around, eyes wide and on alert. Taeyong wasn’t stealthy, often times having trouble just putting one foot in front of the other, so he froze in his tracks when the boy spotted him.
“I thought I heard someone.” The boy says. His whole face scrunches when he glares at the Elf. Taeyong would laugh if he weren’t frightened.
Humans weren’t always the kindest to Elves.
“Sorry,” Taeyong apologizes, voice unsteady, “Hi.”
“Hi.” The boy replies, short.
“You’re new here,” Taeyong says quietly, fear crawling up his chest like an unwanted guest. “I can show you around. There’s not much here but…”
The boy looks away from Taeyong, eyes fluttering off to the side, lips twisted in a small frown. “Mom told me not to talk to strangers. Or follow them around.”
“We’re not strangers. We’re going to go to the same school.” It was a bluff — sort of. The thought of the boy turning him down made Taeyong upset.
“Oh.” Then, “Your hair is white.” The boy points out, not unkindly.
Taeyong scowls anyway. “Yes. It is.” Humans. He should have listened to his aunt and stayed away from the family. The boy was most likely going to heckle him until Taeyong let him touch it.
“How? Only old people have white hair.”
Taeyong’s eyes go wide, “That’s not true!” He grumbles out, “Do I look old to you?”
“No. But you have white hair.” The boy’s face isn’t scrunched up like before, but his eyes are all big and wide. The Elf bites back a snicker.
“I was born with it,” Taeyong explains, “It’s always been like that. My aunt has white hair, too, and she’s not old. Not that old, anyway.”
The boy blinks, “What about your mom?”
“What about my mom?” Taeyong tilts his head, confused. No one asks him about his mom anymore, which is probably for the best since he doesn’t have anything to tell.
“What color is her hair?” The boy asks. He shuffles closer to Taeyong, eyes still wide. Taeyong kind of wants to ruffle his hair. It’s dark and hangs in front of his eyes.
“I don’t know,” Taeyong replies, shrugging his shoulders, “I’ve never seen my mom.”
“Oh. That’s sad.”
Is it? Taeyong hasn’t put too much thought into it. This is how it has always been, just Taeyong and his aunt. It doesn’t seem that sad, “I guess.” The boy frowns again. Taeyong wonders if his face could ever be permanently stuck like that.
“Whatever,” Taeyong says, “You want me to show you around? There’s a rock by the river that’s shaped like a horse.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Taeyong wants to tease the boy for saying Oh so much but they don’t know each other all that well yet, so he holds off. His aunt tells him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say to not say anything at all. He figures he should put that to use sometime.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
📝
I am so sorry.
📝
The boy is named Kim Doyoung.
“My name is Kim Doyoung.” He introduces himself in front of the class, head up and shoulders high. It’s a week after Taeyong first met him, Doyoung’s first day of school. Taeyong thought he might be nervous, but he looks cool. His hair is styled out of his face this time and he’s got on a shirt without any holes in it.
School is a bit of a loose term for it. In reality, all of the children that live in the village, ages 5 through 18, are welcome to pile into a makeshift classroom house in the village to be taught how to read and write by an old, changeling lady.
They walk home together.
Taeyong’s cottage is closer than Doyoung’s is to the school. Whenever he walks up to the front door, Doyoung stays at the end of the path and watches him until he gets inside. Taeyong thinks it’s weird, but his aunt says it’s sweet, so he doesn’t say anything to Doyoung about it. They still don’t know each other all that well yet.
“Hey,” Taeyong says one day while they’re walking home. Doyoung found a large stick and is using it as a staff while he walks. It gives the Elf an idea. “We should go explore.”
Doyoung’s eyebrows go up, “You’re allowed to go out without telling your aunt?”
“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”
Doyoung looks concerned, big eyes wide and little eyebrows tilted up, “Isn’t she afraid someone will take you? Or that you’ll get lost?”
This time, Taeyong doesn’t hold back his laughter. “No way! We’ve been here my whole life, if something was gonna happen it would have already,” Taeyong explains. Doyoung isn’t too bright all the time, Taeyong has learned.
Doyoung frowns and bats Taeyong’s hand away when he goes to pinch his cheek, “Okay… well I still have to ask my mom.”
Taeyong blows a raspberry but follows Doyoung to his cottage anyways. It’s slightly bigger than Taeyong’s own, but Doyoung has a mom, dad and a brother. Taeyong can’t even imagine it. Doyoung’s mom fusses over the boy when they arrive, but lets him go adventure anyways, so Taeyong thinks she must be a pretty good mom. Whatever that entails.
Taeyong leads Doyoung back to the river where they met with long strides and shouts back at Doyoung to, “ Keep up! ” By the time they get to the path leading to the river, both boys are out of breath. They walk in silence for a moment before a shout breaks through the silence. Taeyong spins around, ready to defend himself.
Except — it doesn’t seem like it’s him who needs defending. Doyoung is crouched to the ground, clutching his head in his hand and letting out small, sad noises. Taeyong suddenly feels very out of his element.
“Hey,” Taeyong says, worried. “Why are you on the ground?”
“There’s bees.”
“Bees? Yeah, they like the tangerine trees.”
Doyoung squints his eyes up at Taeyong, fighting against the afternoon sun, “Well, I don’t like them.”
Taeyong sniffs, “Well, why not? They’re just minding their own business.”
Doyoung shrugs. He looks kind of pathetic and Taeyong feels kind of bad for him, so he sticks his hand out. Doyoung grabs it and lets himself be dragged to his feet, “If you don’t want to walk through them then let’s just go find a different path.”
Doyoung frowns. Taeyong pokes his cheek and he frowns even more. “No. I just don’t want them to touch me.”
Taeyong grins and pokes him again, “So let’s run.”
So they run.
📝
Perhaps there was a freak accident. Perhaps I disappeared and never came back. Perhaps I was murdered. Perhaps it was nothing of the sort.
📝
Doyoung gets introduced to Johnny not long after.
“This is Johnny,” Taeyong says, “He’s a Paladin.”
“Hello, Johnny,” Doyoung says, diplomatically, as if he is not glaring at where Johnny’s hand is ruffling Taeyong’s hair.
“And this is Doyoung,” Taeyong introduces, turning to Johnny as his thumb shoots out to point at Doyoung, “He’s a Sorcerer! Pretty cool, right? We don’t get a lot of those around here.”
“A Sorcerer, huh?” Johnny drawls. Taeyong can see Doyoung physically grit his teeth.
“Yes.”
Taeyong looks between his two friends and comes to the conclusion he has no idea what is going on.
“Okay…” Taeyong cuts in, a nervous giggle falling past his lips. Doyoung seems to soften a bit, but Taeyong doesn’t know why Johnny looks so smug. The Elf flicks the boy with the smirk on his lips in the thigh, effectively wiping it off.
“Auntie is making stew tonight, but we have a bit of time to kill before we have to go home. Want to go to the forest?”
“Do you want to go the forest?” Johnny chuckles, “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?”
He does. He walked into a spider web that was extended in between two bushes and cried for an hour because he ruined a spider’s perfectly good home, then cried some more because he had spider web in his mouth.
“Stop,” Taeyong whines, “I’ll watch where I’m going this time.”
Doyoung’s eyes flicker between the two of them, going back and forth, lips pursed. He asks, “Forest? I didn’t even know this village had one nearby…”
Johnny’s eyebrows raise. He can be a bit too blunt for his own good, so Taeyong speaks before he gets the chance to, “We usually just go to the river, school and our cottages. The forest is way past the marketplace, kind of by the abandoned factory. Or like — actually, it’s sort of near Johnny’s cottage.”
“Yep. Not too long of a walk from my house, but it is from your house, Taeyongie. We should go now if you want to make it and have time to explore before coming back.”
Johnny was right. It was a long walk from Taeyong’s house. The few times Taeyong had gone to the forest was when he was already at Johnny’s house, and even then they had to walk a bit.
On the way there, Taeyong attempts to include both Johnny and Doyoung in conversation, and they seem to slowly get used to the idea of each other. Doyoung quits being short with him and Johnny quits being snarky. Taeyong tries to keep his smile to himself.
Taeyong tunes out of the conversation for a moment, the sound of Johnny and Doyoung going back and forth lulling him into a state of peace. He watches a squirrel climb up a tree to the right and thinks of his aunt. She’s a Druid, and though she doesn’t use her powers as a Druid anymore, sometimes Taeyong will hear her speak to the rabbits that enter the garden. He figures he, too, will be a Druid. Someday he will learn how to talk to animals and how to make grass grow greener in the blink of an eye. Until then, he is content with the life he is living.
He tunes back into the conversation when the thick row of trees enters his view, signaling the presence of the forest.
“ — You don’t go to school with us? I wondered that when Taeyong said he was going to introduce me to his friend.”
Taeyong blinks at the sound of his name in Doyoung’s voice. He is not quite sure what they are talking about but he has an inkling.
“Oh, because my mom teaches me.” At Doyoung’s surprised noise, Johnny elaborates, “She was actually the teacher of the village until she was pregnant with me. After that, she figured she was too old and too busy to be teaching a bunch of bratty kids, so she looked around and eventually found a replacement.”
Doyoung frowns, “Doesn’t it get lonely?”
“Sure,” Johnny says, tossing an arm around Taeyong’s shoulders, “But I have people like this little booger around keeping me company, so I manage just fine.”
Taeyong grumbles and whines, smacking Johnny in the chest. The two of them look at him fondly as they laugh together.
📝
Perhaps I asked for this.
📝
It goes something like this.
Doyoung completes Taeyong in ways that no one else can.
Whenever Taeyong’s aunt picked up neapolitan ice cream from the traveling Wizard chef, Taeyong ate the strawberry ice cream and his aunt ate the chocolate ice cream. Neither of them cared for vanilla. Then, Doyoung is there on a hot summer day when Taeyong’s aunt brings home neapolitan, and casually says, “Cool! Vanilla is my favorite!” As if that didn’t change Taeyong’s whole view of him.
And sometimes when their teacher is scolding them for talking too loud to one another, Taeyong will look at Doyoung out of the corner of his eye and find Doyoung looking back at him. Always looking back. They speak through eye contact and body language, it’s the easiest, gentlest conversation Taeyong has ever engaged in.
One time, Doyoung is looking at Taeyong while he’s talking, telling the younger boy a story about how he once saw four little birds defend themselves against a hawk and how it was the coolest thing ever , when all of the sudden he interrupts, “You’re pretty.”
Taeyong’s mouth closes with a click and then opens, only to close again. He feels like a fish out of water. He is confused and embarrassed and his heart is racing, all he can muster up is a choked sound in the very back of his throat that sounds like a cross between Eh? and What?
“I mean —“ Doyoung backtracks, “I meant your eyes are pretty with your hair.” He flushes red after he says it, but he doesn’t take it back. Taeyong imagines his cheeks are red like Doyoung’s, if not more.
It’s not unusual for Taeyong to get complimented. Being an Elf means compliments, though often unwanted, come in abundance. He has been told by classmates that he is pretty, from the way he walks to the way he talks. He has been told by his aunt that his shade of hair was the prettiest she had ever seen. Hell, even Johnny had complimented him on the way he talks to people, how soft and sure he is.
Doyoung is different.
Taeyong doesn’t know why Doyoung is different but he is. Doyoung told him he had the hair of an old person when they first met and has never been taken by Taeyong’s charms. Doyoung doesn’t compliment Taeyong. Not like this. Not appearance-wise.
It makes Taeyong’s chest feel tight, his stomach feels weird and tingly. He wonders briefly if he might be getting sick, but the symptoms get worse when he glances back up at Doyoung and sees the other’s furrowed eyebrows and pink cheeks.
“Thanks,” Taeyong breathes out.
Doyoung looks up as the Elf says that, and they make eye contact before Taeyong immediately puts his head down, stares at his shoes, and thinks, What the hell?
Doyoung clears his throat and suggests, “Want to go to the river?”
If Doyoung can touch his heart in ways no one else can, make it clench and flutter, Taeyong figures Doyoung just might complete him. If Doyoung can ease Taeyong out of his head when he gets a little lost up there, then he just might complete him. If Doyoung can walk through the tangerine trees and pretend not to be scared, even though Taeyong knows well that he is afraid of bees, just because Taeyong likes the view of the sky from there, then Taeyong figures Doyoung probably completes him.
Taeyong thinks this might be where it all started.
📝
Nevertheless, if you are reading this, I am sorry you had to find out this way.
📝
With age comes maturity, insecurity and reality.
Taeyong’s shoulders fill out a bit more, he grows taller and quieter. He spends more time with his aunt and finally asks about his parents.
To Taeyong’s dismay, Doyoung ages, too. He grows a few inches taller than the Elf, and though he is slim, he carries himself in a way that shouts confidence. It is endlessly infuriating for a reason Taeyong can’t quite place. He wonders if he’s jealous. He does not think too hard about this possibility.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Taeyong blinks his eyes open at the question. He is thirteen years old, lying beneath a marmalade sky and Doyoung has stuck to his side like glue. Surprisingly, because everybody in the village seems to want to be close to Doyoung, but the boy doesn’t seem interested in any of them.
The Elf sits up from his lying position and looks at the clouds, “When I grow up?” Taeyong already feels grown up. His teacher has started giving him books that are too hard to understand and his pants are too short at the ankles.
“Yeah. I mean, you’re not going to stay here forever , are you?”
Doyoung phrases this like it’s ridiculous to even think about — and maybe it is — but Taeyong has always been a little ridiculous to others.
“I don’t know.” Taeyong admits, “I haven’t thought about it that much.”
Doyoung frowns. He’s always frowning, Taeyong wants to reach up and smooth out the lines on his face. He doesn’t, because he thinks that might be weird. He cares a lot about what Doyoung thinks, nowadays.
“You’re not thinking about your future?”
Snooty. Taeyong thinks, turning his nose up at Doyoung, “What, do I have a time limit or something? Jeez. ” He speaks again before Doyoung has the chance to, “Fine, then. What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I want to go to Waterdeep.” Doyoung says, simple.
Taeyong’s eyebrows raise. Doyoung continues, “You know about Waterdeep, right? Big city, big possibilities. I’m a Sorcerer, so all I need is a year of apprenticeship and then I can go off doing all kinds of magic work. Some spellcasters start guilds, while others work specifically for the City and Lords of Waterdeep.”
“I want to be a spellcaster too, but…” Taeyong’s eyes turn down towards the grass, “You know…”
He hears Doyoung hum, “I know. You still don’t know your class. You know you can be a spellcaster no matter what, right? Just because you aren’t born with magic doesn’t mean you can’t learn.”
Taeyong knows that, “I know that.” But it means he starts from square one. No magic in his bloodline, no natural talent. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be a pirate.”
Doyoung rolls his eyes good naturedly and lies back when Taeyong does. They relax with each other, shoulders to shoulders, eyes to the sky.
“You could go to Waterdeep,” Doyoung says, voice gone soft and quiet. “There are plenty of jobs there.”
Taeyong takes a deep breath, “With you?”
Doyoung’s voice falters. Over the sound of nature, Taeyong hears him swallow thickly, then whisper, “Yeah. With me. If you wanted to.”
The moment feels delicate. Too delicate. Half of Taeyong wants to crack a joke to cut the tension while the other half wants to stay silent. You’ve always had a soft spot for Doyoung , a voice that sounds suspiciously like Johnny’s says in his head. But why, he asks himself.
It seems simple.
“Yeah. I want to.”
If Doyoung’s pinky brushes up against Taeyong’s on the wall home, neither of them mention it. If Doyoung lingers longer than usual outside of Taeyong’s house when he drops him off, well. That’s for him to know.
📝
It was the only way.
📝
Taeyong pauses in his reading when he feels the hot rays of the sun disappear, a figure bathing him in shade. It’s nice, a welcome break from the summer sun, but he never told anyone where he was going.
A yelp escapes his mouth when he eyes trail from his book to Doyoung, “Lords, Doyoung! You scared me! Don’t do that,” Taeyong scolds, snapping his book shut and hiding it behind his back.
“What are you reading?” Doyoung asks, because even though he’s grown a ton from the little nine year old he used to be, he’s still nosey as ever at sixteen.
“Nothing,” Taeyong replies. It’s not because he’s embarrassed, he’s not, he just doesn’t want to share that he was reading.
“I literally saw you with a book.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Can’t you just mind your business?” Taeyong spits out, but he fears it doesn’t come as intimidating as he would like it to due to the way his face is heating up rapidly, “How’d you even know where I was?”
“You’re predictable,” Doyoung insults. Taeyong hates himself for blushing, “Why are you embarrassed?”
Taeyong thinks back to the memory of twelve year old Johnny guffawing when he saw Taeyong with a copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. “I’m not embarrassed.”
Doyoung raises his eyebrows, clearly not believing Taeyong’s words. He lowers himself on the ground next to Taeyong and looks at him expectantly, face open and curious.
Taeyong is not embarrassed. At least around Doyoung, he is trying not to be. It seems to be happening more and more, his heart speeding up and his face turning red around the other boy.
With a deep sigh, Taeyong pulls the book out from behind his back.
“ The Eye of The Chained God ,” Doyoung reads, “Did you get this at the library?”
Taeyong shakes his head, “No. Auntie had it on a bookshelf collecting dust, so I asked her if I could read it.”
“That’s cool. Do you like reading?”
Cool. Cool is the last thing Taeyong would say to describe himself. Doyoung always had a way of flattering him, whether he meant to or not.
“I — sometimes. Not a lot.”
“That’s cool,” Doyoung repeats, quiet this time. Then, he says, “You know, I have posters all over my room. There’s a Bard band from Waterdeep I’ve been obsessed with…” He trails off.
Taeyong’s eyebrows go up. He knew Doyoung liked music, he has a record player, but he didn’t know to what extent. He didn’t know it was a thing .
“My mom bought one of their records for me when she was down south. Do you want to come over to listen to it? And you can tell me about your book…” Doyoung looks at his shoes as he speaks, a clear sign that he is nervous. The Elf feels lost, what does Doyoung of all people have to be nervous about, around Taeyong of all people?
“You want to hear me talk about my book?” Taeyong asks, voice flat. He has to be joking.
Doyoung’s ears go pink, “I want to hear you talk about everything,” He admits, ears burning red now.
“Yeah?” Taeyong asks, feeling breathless. He often feels like that around Doyoung, but now —
Now Doyoung looks breathless, too.
His face is pink, tongue darting out to lick his lips. He keeps glancing down, from Taeyong’s eyes, lower, then fluttering off to the side. Taeyong feels like he’s missing something. He feels out of sorts, like he’s running on autopilot. Except his autopilot wasn’t wired for this situation, so when Doyoung leans a bit closer, Taeyong rushes to say, “Let’s go then!”
Doyoung blinks. For a moment, Taeyong thinks Doyoung might be upset, perhaps disappointed.
The Sorcerer just huffs out a laugh, though. He pushes himself off the ground, brushes his slacks off and reaches out a hand to Taeyong.
And Taeyong felt like he was missing something, so when Doyoung pulls him up, he intertwines their fingers together, and finds that he feels a bit more complete than before.
📝
Say goodbye to Auntie for me, she had endless amounts of kindness towards me even when I did not deserve it.
📝
“Taeyong, come here.”
The Elf pauses in his steps, turning his head to look at his aunt. He had just gotten home from the marketplace, tangerine in one hand and bags full of food in the other hand.
“Everything okay, auntie?” Taeyong steps inside the kitchen where his aunt is sitting. She looks distressed, hair out of place as if she had been running her hands through it, her painted lips pointing downwards in a frown. She sits at the table and is anything but relaxed. Her fingertips tap the wooden table, matching the pace her foot sets as it taps the floor.
“Mrs. Kim stopped by earlier,” She starts, lip already trembling. Taeyong’s heart drops before her next words even leave her mouth, “She wanted to ask me if we had seen Doyoung.”
Throat dry, Taeyong rasps out, “What?”
“She hasn’t seen him since dawn yesterday. The Kims went out to check around, see if he was out hiding somewhere but…” Her sentence ends in the shake of her head.
Taeyong feels sick. He has never felt so empty and overstimulated at the same time. He is half aware that he dropped the tangerine that was in his hand, the fruit rolling away from him. His eyes want to close, maybe. Or is he dizzy? He might need more sleep. Yeah, more sleep. He’ll go to sleep, and when he wakes up, Doyoung will be here to poke at his book until he puts it down and to swarm him with whatever Waterdeep statistic he’s been obsessed with recently. Yeah.
“I’m sure he’s fine.” His head is pounding, his heart feels like lead in his chest. He takes a deep breath and plasters on a smile, “You know how Doyoung is. If he doesn’t want anyone to find him, no one will find him. I’m sure he’ll be back by tomorrow.”
Except he’s not back by tomorrow.
Or the next day.
Or the next.
The village is starting to get antsy. There have been no mysterious disappearances in the village for as long as anyone can remember. With no note from him and no indication of a possible suicide, the whole village is at a loss.
Doyoung’s mother is devastated, along with his brother. After losing her husband last year, Mrs. Kim is in shambles at Doyoung’s disappearance. Auntie is upset as well, doing everything she can to comfort the Kims. The whole village is filled with grief and sorrow, hoping and praying for the Doyoung’s safety. Low chatter fills the village, desperate wishes and soft sympathies. It seems the whole village has fallen into a depression.
Not Taeyong, though.
No, Taeyong is angry. Everyone in the village keeps talking about wishes and prayers . Everyone in the village wants to tend to the Kims and prematurely mourn the boy who has hardly been looked for. It’s frustrating, it makes Taeyong sick with stress. It makes him shake with rage. How dare a whole village mourn for a boy who could still be out there. It’s bullshit.
It doesn’t matter how mad Taeyong is. No matter how much he kicks and screams, nothing he does will make the village listen. No one cared from the very beginning, save a few. No, everyone was fascinated by the fact that something interesting finally happened in the village of population hundred-something. They had been waiting, starved for it, they didn’t care who the victim was. They didn’t care about Kim Doyoung.
Months later, they still don’t.
He is announced dead by the village when no one hears from him in writing. The Kims make funeral plans when he doesn’t show up at home on the five month anniversary of his disappearance.
Taeyong’s aunt threatens to drag him to the cemetery herself if he doesn’t get up and go, and he believes her, so he does. He puts on his nicest black suit, the one his aunt had bought for him, the one his aunt sets out on his bed before she tells him to be quick. He knots his tie and straightens it out. He feels like a little kid playing dress up and he’s sure if Doyoung were here, he would be laughing at him.
He goes to the cemetery with flowers in hand, arriving right on time, his aunt punctual as usual. Taeyong hugs Doyoung’s mother, because even though he is pent up and angry, he knows she needs it. She looks up at him with glassy eyes when he pulls away from the hug. He looks away, his stomach churning.
He makes eye contact with Johnny as his aunt is murmuring quietly to the Kims, neither of them approach each other, but Johnny gives him a sad smile and a quick nod before he looks away.
They stand around a hole in the ground as the funeral direction guides them through the process and offers for people to go up and say their last words. Taeyong feels tears well in his eyes when Doyoung’s mother goes up to speak, so he tunes the rest of the people out, zoning out as he looks at the rest of the cemetery.
Everyone gathers around when the casket is lowered into the grave. Which is pointless, probably, because there’s no goddamn body in there. Because Doyoung could still be out there, alone and scared.
Taeyong lets out a huff of laughter, sharp and humorless. He turns around, disinterested in the eyes that follow him, and starts to walk away. He can’t watch Doyoung’s family cry. He can’t watch them lower an empty casket into the ground. He won’t.
It’s only when he’s near the entrance does he notice he still has the flowers clutched in his hand. They’re crushed, stems bent and petal droopy. He drops them in the first trash can he sees, feeling burdened.
“ This is such bullshit,” Taeyong mutters, loosening his tie as he walks away from the cemetery.
📝
Say goodbye to Johnny for me, even though we butted heads more times than I can count.
📝
Over time, he learns to accept it.
There is no conspiracy. There is no mystery. There is nothing unsolved. Doyoung is gone and no one can do anything to change that.
For Doyoung’s 19th birthday, Taeyong and Johnny meet up at the cemetery. They don’t see much of each other anymore, the loss of a mutual friend making them grow distant, but they stand hand in hand in front of the grey, dirty stone engraved with In loving memory of KIM DOYOUNG .
On Doyoung's 20th birthday, Johnny tells Taeyong that he is leaving.
“I don’t know exactly where I’m going,” Johnny says, quiet and resolute. “But I have to go.”
Taeyong nods and says, “I understand.”
Because he does.
Everytime he walks through the village, on the path lined with tangerine trees, he sees Doyoung. Everytime he walks by the school house and hears them singing the ABCs, he hears Doyoung. Everytime he goes near the river, Doyoung is there. Johnny may be leaving - whether that means he is moving on or running, the Elf does not know — but Taeyong doesn’t know if he can bring himself to do the same.
On Doyoung’s 21st birthday, Taeyong speaks to Doyoung’s family for the first time since the funeral. He figures owes it to them for storming out of the cemetery and much more.
Doyoung’s mother opens the door and Taeyong almost crumbles at the surprised look on her face. He bites his lip and bows deep, a rushed apology spilling from his lips. He stays stooped low until she puts a hand on his shoulder and suggests he come inside. He declines, but he gives her the flowers that he brought with and apologizes once again when tears start to drip down her cheeks. He walks home with a heavy heart that night.
For Doyoung’s 22nd birthday, Taeyong visits the cemetery. He has fresh flowers in one hand, a bag of tangerines in the other. He cries when the acidic juice of the fruit seeps around his nail, then cries harder because he never had to peel them when Doyoung was around. He stays at the cemetery until dark, later than he should, and wonders if he should stop torturing himself for Doyoung’s birthday.
The day before Doyoung’s 23rd birthday, Taeyong entertains the idea of not celebrating. Everyone else has seemed to have moved on. His aunt is tending to her garden as she always is, Johnny has long since left, the few other friends Doyoung made around the village continue going about their lives as usual.
Perhaps Doyoung wouldn’t even want Taeyong to celebrate. Perhaps he would want him to move on.
The thought crashes and burns when Taeyong runs into Doyoung’s older brother at the village’s morning market and the man offers him a weak, tired smile and says, “Actually, we’re having dinner tomorrow, the first one with the both of us together since… you know. It would be wonderful if you could join us.”
So, the day of Doyoung’s 23rd birthday, Taeyong is sat at a wooden table with a warm, homemade meal in front of him and two people who understand the grief in his heart. Taeyong doesn’t speak much at the meal, doesn’t want to disrupt the steady flow of conversation the Kims have, but he feels at ease in a way he hasn’t in a long time.
On Doyoung’s 24th birthday, Taeyong gets home from work and lies under a calming, marmalade sky. He should go home to his aunt, assure her he’s made it home safely and see if she needs anything, but he’s content where he is now. He nods off and awakens only when the sun starts to rise again.
His aunt bites his head off when he gets home, but she’s more understanding than usual and they both know why. They both know what day it was.
For Doyoung’s 25th birthday, Taeyong goes back to the cemetery and presses three fingers to the stone. He does not cry, even though his eyes are burning and his lip is wobbling, he does not cry.
He goes home before the sun goes down, unusual for him. He cooks for his aunt and they watch two birds chase each other out the window.
On Taeyong’s 26th birthday, he decides, once and for all, he is leaving the village.
📝
Say goodbye to the shoreline we dipped our toes in and the starry skies we stared up at.
📝
Taeyong opens his mouth without even thinking about it, “Mrs Kim?”
The lady in question looks away from the shelf she was eyeing in surprise. Wide, shocked eyes find Taeyong’s own as a small smile cracks on the woman’s face.
“Taeyong.” She greets warmly, abandoning the stall she was at to approach the Elf.
Taeyong was visiting the marketplace one last time in hopes of getting snacks for the long ride to Everlund. It was a city, not as big and mighty as Doyoung liked to claim Waterdeep was, but big enough to have hopes. To get a job, support himself. He went to the library, stopped at the section Doyoung frequented, and looked at the various books with city names on the front. He researched, got to know the cities before making his decision on the one he wanted to move to. At the end, Everlund caught his attention due to the large population of Elves. He had never met another Elf other than his aunt, he supposes maybe it’s time.
“Mrs. Kim,” Taeyong repeats, arms snaking around the lady as she pulls him into a tight hug. She’s frail and cold. If Taeyong hugged her a few years ago he would have burst out into tears.
Now, he pulls away and smiles at her. Sincerely, he says, “It’s great to see you.”
Looking down at her now as he speaks is a far cry from how it was when he was little. She used to be so big to him, a grown up who was miles away from him in terms of — well, everything. Now, she is small and looks up at Taeyong with eyes that seem to have stayed sad, even after all these years have passed.
“It’s good to see you, too.” Her eyes light up, if only a bit, “Actually, I wanted to speak to you. I heard you were leaving?”
How the rest of the village knows, Taeyong has no idea. He only divulged his plans to his aunt and she has never been one to gossip.
“I am.” He hears himself say. He feels guilty. He wonders if she thinks he is running.
She puts a hand on his shoulder, “That’s good.” She reassures, “That’s good. I want for you to strive for wonderful, wonderful things. I did want to catch you before you left, though. I —“ She takes a big, shaky breath, “I have a box of Doyoung’s I want you to take.”
Taeyong can't stop the tears welling in his eyes, “No. What? No… I can’t…”
“Taeyong,” She interrupts, “He would have wanted you to have it.”
Taeyong shakes his head. He was supposed to have moved on. He was supposed to be able to hear Doyoung’s name and not fall apart. Even in the face of the dead boy’s mother, he can’t hold himself together.
It’s a terrible feeling.
“You two spent your childhood together and I never would want to take that away from you. Take him away from you. I want you to have memories of him, Taeyong. He… he was such a sweet boy. He loved you. He truly loved you so much and he never would have wanted to leave you if…” She trails off. Taeyong gets it. He felt the same. Even if he never did anything about it, even if he never met Doyoung halfway, he felt the same. He always did. Perhaps he always will.
“Okay.” He nods, feeling too young and small for his body, awkward and unsure in his skin. “My train leaves at sundown. I can accompany you home, if you would like?”
Mrs. Kim smiles, “I would love that. Thank you.”
Taeyong walks home with Mrs. Kim. They don’t speak, basking in each other’s presence for what very well may be the last time. They pass Taeyong’s house and it reminds him so much of his walks with Doyoung that he wants to sob, but he doesn’t. He keeps walking, head held high and facing forward.
Taeyong feels his breath catch in his throat when they enter Doyoung’s room. It looks the same. Books about various cities are still scattered amongst his desk and unmade bed. Posters of popular Bard bands Doyoung listened to on the radio are hung on the walls, perfectly symmetrical. His closet is open, clothing hung up, neat and color coded. The only thing out of place is the box in the center of the room labeled TAEYONG .
“It’s not much.” Mrs. Kim says, regret in her voice, “There are some photos, loose paper and such. Crafts you guys made when you were younger. I’m sorry that’s all I have —“
“No.” Taeyong says softly, “It’s more than enough. Thank you, Mrs. Kim. Thank you for everything.”
Mrs. Kim reached up and cradles his cheek in her palm, “Take care of yourself, Taeyong.”
Taeyong boards the train when the sun sets, cool wind brushing through his hair as the sky turns orange. It’s strange, the feeling of leaving home. The place he grew up, the only place he has ever known. He’s scared. He’s excited. He wonders what Everlund has in store for him.
The box Mrs. Kim gifted him doesn’t have much. It’s small, fitting comfortably in his lap. The train isn’t crowded, only a few other people sit in the same cart as him. Even then, they aren’t paying attention, staring out the window or sleeping.
He places the box on the seat to his right as he opens it, lifting the lid carefully. Photos of them sit at the top, put into small frames to lessen the damage of travel. Taeyong smiles, recognizing some of them. Their first day of school, Taeyong smiling big and wide, scabs and bruises decorating his legs with Doyoung by his side, looking pale and nervous at the thought of being shoved into a room with a bunch of other students. A picture with Johnny, the three of them gathered around Doyoung’s brand new record player the day after his 13th birthday. There’s a picture of the two of them, taken far away and without their knowing. Taeyong squints to make it out, holding it closer to his face. It looks like they’re walking the path of tangerine trees, hand in hand, Taeyong guiding Doyoung as they made their way to the river, like he always did. Taeyong is looking ahead, shouting, hand in the air, and Doyoung is looking at him with a smile on his lips.
A drawing they made for class sits under the small pile of photos. Taeyong laughs when he sees it, recalling the terrible grade they got for it. The teacher said it was off topic, and it was, but it was the most fun Taeyong had in school, so he didn’t mind.
Knick knacks and such filled the box, memories of Taeyong’s childhood he didn’t even remember. It was nice to see it, nice to have these memories.
A journal of Doyoung’s sat at the bottom. Neat handwriting filled the pages, words about school, words about cities, words about friends, words about music. Taeyong reads it all, fondness coursing through his chest.
He finishes reading a page about the first time the two of them tried cooking dinner, flipping the page, when a piece of paper falls out.
Taeyong’s eyebrows furrow, picking it up from where it landed on the floor. Once he gets a better look at it, he realizes it’s an envelope, not stray paper. It’s not addressed to anyone, the front and back void of any writing, so he opens it.
At the top, Taeyong , is written in cursive.
A letter to him, he realizes. Doyoung never gave it to him. Taeyong wonders how long it sat in his room, ready to be delivered. Perhaps Doyoung was ashamed, or didn’t have the courage.
Taeyong’s heart feels as if it has stopped. The next line reads, I hope this letter finds you in good health. If you are reading this, I am dead .
The paper crinkles under his shaky hands. He pays no mind to it. He reads that line again, and again, waiting for it to make sense. Belatedly, he realizes tears are flowing down his cheeks, the taste of salt in his mouth snapping him back into reality.
He reads the letter. It hurts, and he pauses often, but he reads it. He reads it, and he reads it again, eyes wide and breath coming out unevenly. He stands up on wobbly legs, feeling wild as he grabs onto the overhead railing, scrambling to get to the front of the train.
The conductor looks less than enthused at the sight of Taeyong, but he ignores it. With wide eyes and a beating heart, he asks the first question that comes to his mind.
📝
And if you ever want to find me, you know where I will be.
📝
“Does this train go to Waterdeep?”
📝
In the meantime, take care of yourself.
📝
Taeyong is not quite sure how he got here.
“Hello,” Taeyong greets the bartender. He looks young, much too young to work at such a busy tavern like this, but he looks assured. Comfortable.
The bartender gives him a small smile, closed mouth and closed off before he replies, “Hello. Can I get you something?”
Taeyong swallows thickly, feeling unsure and out of place. At this point he is running on hope and adrenaline. “Yes. I heard this was a good place to go if you wanted information. I… I have a question. On the whereabouts of someone.”
The boy behind the counter drums his fingertips against the countertop, eyes focused on Taeyong, “Sure. Hit me.”
“Do you know a Kim Doyoung? And where I might be able to find him?” The words taste stale in his mouth, left out too long and no longer good. He hasn’t uttered that name in years. It still sends a shiver down his spine.
“Kim Doyoung,” The bartender repeats, “A friend of yours?”
Taeyong forces a laugh, “The best I ever had.”
“But you don’t know where he is?” Is the reply he gets. It should feel disrespectful, like the boy was crossing an unspoken boundary, but instead it just feels sad.
“No, I…“ The sentence gets lost in his throat, caught between anger and tears, “We haven’t spoken in a long time. I thought — I thought he was gone.” Embarrassingly, his voice cracks. The last thing he wants to do is break down in front of a teenage bartender. “Have you ever heard of him? Or know someone I could talk to for more information? Just… anything.”
The boy purses his lips, taking a deep breath through his nose. “What did you say your name was?”
I never mentioned my name , Taeyong thinks, confused. It doesn’t matter, “Lee Taeyong.” But for some reason, it feels important. Taeyong feels like he’s grasping at straws here, looking for meaning in things that have none.
“Right. That’s what I thought.” The boy murmurs. Before Taeyong has time to process it, the bartender speaks again, “Give me…” He pauses, glances briefly behind himself at the clock, “approximately one minute.”
Taeyong’s eyebrows furrow. His head is pounding, “I— okay? A minute for what?”
The boy stares blankly at Taeyong, before a shout cuts through the air, someone hailing for the bartender. He gives Taeyong a shrug and turns towards the holler, effectively ending their conversation.
Taeyong pinches the bridge of his nose. That conversation seemed as if it were going to help, but all it left Taeyong with was confusion. The piano does little to help his headache, but it reminds him of the Bards Doyoung used to listen to. He feels himself grow hopeless. He had plans, not set in stone, but they were plans. He was going to go to Everlund, see new things, meet new people. He was going to train to become a Druid. He was going to find a stable job.
But no, a note from an allegedly dead man made Taeyong abandon all rationality. Even if Doyoung is in Waterdeep, the city is huge. Thousands upon thousands of people walk these streets daily. The chances of Taeyong coming across Doyoung are virtually slim to none.
Taeyong circles his arms tighter around himself at the cold air that gushes into the tavern, the door opening and closing behind him.
📝
Best wishes,
Kim Doyoung.
📝
The bartender from earlier shouts, “Boss! There’s a man here looking for you.”
A laugh rings behind Taeyong, making him freeze.
“It was about time. I thought perhaps you had forgotten about me. It is nice to see that I was wrong.”
Even without turning around and looking at his expression, Taeyong can hear the relief in Doyoung’s voice. It’s beautiful.
Taeyong can feel his heart pulsing in his ears. Nerves crawl along his skin, whisper in his ear that none of this is real. His palms feel numb under the pressure of his fingernails digging into them, overwhelmed beyond comprehension. Despite all of this, Taeyong slowly turns around.
Doyoung smiles, “Welcome to Waterdeep, Taeyong.”