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“Do you…have to?”
Heeseung sees Jungwon cringe at himself, start the mental battering that commences any time Jungwon thinks he’s done something that strays outside of his pristine lines. Anything that doesn’t pass the several brain-to-mouth filters he has in place but somehow sneaks past his pretty pink lips anyway. Lips like rosebuds, Jungwon has thorns.
Heeseung swallows back a sigh, pushes the pity away from his eyes with a slow blink because he knows Jungwon hates that look. When Jungwon doesn’t meet his own standards—for speech or anything else—the last thing he needs is someone’s pity to add to the stress.
“Yeah baby, I do,” he admits, turning away from Jungwon to tuck another shirt into his suitcase. The room is mostly dark, excluding the glow from inside their shared closet. It’s still bright enough for him to see the look on Jungwon’s face.
It’s just like Jungwon to start showing his genuine distress fourteen hours before Heeseung’s flight.
He’s been trying to coax the true feelings out of Jungwon for weeks now. Over dinner, while watching TV, when they walk Maeumi, but not a single time has Jungwon cracked. He’s smiled, giggled, and assured Heeseung that he’ll be just fine.
“Hyung,” Jungwon rolls his eyes, cheeks bunching up in a grin. “You’re clearly excited about this, and I’m excited for you! Stop worrying so much.”
The problem is that Heeseung knows Jungwon better than he knows himself. He knew it wasn’t that Jungwon genuinely didn’t mind, that Jungwon genuinely wouldn’t miss him. That’s why he didn’t let his feelings get hurt by Jungwon’s serene responses. Jungwon’s heart always runs a little slower than his brain, than his mouth. It reaches for his cupid’s bow, tugs at his tongue, and only comes crawling out with a strangled cry when it’s already too late.
He expected it to play out like this, but it’s still…frustrating.
“It’s just that…”
Heeseung tenses, and waits. One second passes, then two. A car alarm goes off from somewhere outside, someone slams a door shut, a group of teenagers are hollering. Jungwon doesn’t continue. Heeseung lets out a long breath and continues folding his shirt.
“It’s just that, do…do you have to?”
Jungwon keeps his feelings in a pretty little elastic box. It stretches and extends, and every once in a while…it explodes. The feelings come pouring out in a torrent that hurts. Heeseung can feel the seams snapping, Jungwon’s bleeding heart begging for solace; he really can’t deal with it right now.
“Yeah, I do.”
“But do you–”
“Jungwon.” Heeseung whirls around, the name falling out of his mouth with a little more anger than he’d anticipated. Jungwon’s sitting on the edge of the bed, feet caught mid-anxious swing. His eyes are wide, staring up at Heeseung as he twists his fingers anxiously. “Enough. We’ve been talking about this for weeks and you’ve been fine! What’s so different now?”
“I–” Jungwon looks like he’s at a loss for words, he glances down, clasping his hands together. “Sorry hyung,” the phrase trails into a whisper, the heart pulling away from the opening of his lips, making a sticky mess of bile and blood in the back of his mouth. To Heeseung, it feels like a punch to the gut.
“Are you serious right now?”
Jungwon hasn’t called him hyung consistently in years. It’s not something they do anymore. They agreed. He only uses it when he wants something, or when he thinks Heeseung’s really upset.
It makes Heeseung feel like the bad guy when all this time he’s been trying to understand what Jungwon wants.
Heeseung knows he looks angry, the shirt he’d ironed earlier now wrinkled in his fist as he stares. Jungwon’s anxiously biting his lip, looking even more at a loss in the face of Heeseung losing his cool. Jungwon’s rarely skittish like this. He’s levelheaded, steady, confident. What’s happening?
“It’s four months. We talked about it, and you agreed to it. Jungwon, what’s going on?” He leans against the wall, not moving any closer, giving Jungwon his space; space to spill his heart on the floor, to gaze at it from afar.
It’s just so frustrating that this is how it plays out. Heeseung and Jungwon have never been the best at verbally communicating because they never have to. They just get each other, gazing through their glass windows straight into each other’s hearts. Right now, Jungwon’s heart isn’t sitting behind that window, it’s a sticky mess in his mouth instead.
“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just–”
“Not the fucking guilt,” Heeseung scoffs. He never asked Jungwon to apologize for his feelings. Their arguments don’t usually go like this. Both of them usually have too much self-respect for it to go like this.
He can’t see Jungwon. Usually the younger is transparent, a pane of glass to Heeseung; straight to the heart, to the soul. Currently there’s a layer of stinging green growing over his eyes; something like ivy, something like fear-born envy.
“Then how do you want me to feel?” Jungwon’s voice raises in volume, anger that Heeseung rarely sees as the younger stands, hands balled into fists at his side. “What do you want from me?”
Heeseung pauses, scanning Jungwon’s tense body language. He’s wound up, filled with the pent-up negative energy that’s been building up for the past two weeks. Jungwon looks like there are thorns digging into his ribs, aiming straight for the lungs. Heeseung takes a deep breath, tries to be the reasonable one as he levels his voice.
“I just wish you’d talked to me about it earlier.”
The fire in Jungwon’s eyes dims; the thorns ease back, still a threat, just a less pressing one. If Jungwon was a cat, Heeseung would see his ears droop as his eyes soften, his shoulders sag. He wants to press a hand to the small of Jungwon’s back, feel the tension release from his spine, the steady extension of the vertebrae under his fingers as they work their way up and down.
“And what? Make you feel worse about your decision?”
Acceptance—it looks like giving up. Jungwon looks tired, years older and more jaded than he should be. Heeseung wishes Jungwon fought a little harder for what he wanted.
He sighs, looks at the floor.
The truth is, maybe Heeseung just wishes that Jungwon wanted him a little more.
“F-Four months?” Heeseung sees Jungwon freeze for a half beat, then release in the next, serene smile coming back into commission. “Oh, that’s not too bad! It’ll be a great experience too, right?”
Heeseung forces the corners of his lips into a smile. “Yeah…yeah, for sure,” he hesitates, Jungwon raises an eyebrow, inndirectly telling him to spit it out, “but…but will you be okay?”
Jungwon giggles, a sweater paw coming over his lips. He nuzzles his face into Maeumi’s fur in his lap. “Me? Don’t worry about me, Hee. I can take care of myself.”
Heeseung knows that he can take care of himself. The question is really if he wants to.
“Maybe…maybe I was hoping that you’d talk me out of it.”
When he looks back up, Jungwon’s already staring. He looks shattered.
Jungwon usually reads Heeseung right, like glass, like a fairytale. The only time he’s ever wrong is when it comes to guessing the extent of the feelings Heeseung has for him.
“That’s not-” Jungwon’s voice cracks, he clears his throat, dislodging the dredges of his heart from his folds. “That’s not fair of you to ask of me.” He looks up at Heeseung, begging him to take the words back. “I could never ask you to choose me over an opportunity this.”
“But you can!” Heeseung throws his hands in the air. “That’s the problem Jungwon! This is a relationship,” Heeseung motions between the two of them, “a serious one. What you want matters. We aren’t kids anymore.”
Jungwon stares at him. Heeseung doesn’t think he gets it.
“Just because we aren’t kids, doesn’t mean you have to stop doing what’s right for you,” Jungwon emphasizes, crossing his arms.
What’s right for him?
What’s right for him.
What’s right for him.
Jungwon’s never been good at asking for what he wants.
“Hey,” Jungwon saunters over one night while Heeseung’s still sitting at the dining table trying to figure out the route he’ll take to get from his rental house to work every morning. If he goes.
“Hey yourself,” Heeseung grins, patting the seat beside him. Jungwon looks shifty, Heeseung has some hope that today will be the day he actually asks him to stay. “What’s up?”
Jungwon hesitates, chewing on his sweater paw. Heeseung gently dislodges it from his mouth and brushes over Jungwon’s lips with a thumb, as if that’ll remove any of the germs. Jungwon sighs, scrunching his nose.
“Not much! What are you looking at?”
Heeseung sighs, and shows him the screen.
“I guess this is what I get for dating someone three years younger then me, huh?” Heeseung scoffs. The minute the words are out of his mouth, he feels the air freeze around them, sees Jungwon go icy, hackles raised. The ivy reels, cackling as frost covers its razor edges.
“Oh, so that’s how we’re doing this?” Jungwon sneers back, mirroring Heeseung’s body language. Like a cat. Fur raised, claws out, back arched, the vertebrae splintering without Heeseung’s steadying hand.
Heeseung knows full well that the statement was uncalled for. He knows better than anyone how much Jungwon hates people using age as an explanation for anything. He hates to admit that there’s a little bit of venom dripping into his bloodstream, a desire to see Jungwon angry, to see some genuine passion from his boyfriend.
Jungwon is so selfless, Heeseung wants him to be selfish. Just once.
“Yeah, yeah it is how we’re doing this because you’ve been acting like a child,” Heeseung hisses.
He sees a pang of hurt reverberate in Jungwon’s gaze before the younger raises his defenses again.
“You’re the one who said you wished I convinced you to stay, yet you were planning on leaving anyway. Make it make sense.” Jungwon growls out, agitatedly raking his bangs out of his face.
“Yeah? Is it so bad that I want to know my boyfriend is going to miss me? That I want him to fight for me?” Heeseung knows he’s being loud. Even the clanging of the washing machines on the first floor that they always complain about are drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. He clutches the t-shirt in his hand even tighter, clenches his jaw.
Jungwon stalks closer, grabs Heeseung’s collar and yanks him down. The ivy closes in around them, embracing them in poison, the thorns dig into his very being. For the first time, Jungwon’s close enough for Heeseung to see the glossy sheen over his eyes.
“Lee Heeseung,” Jungwon’s voice trembles, sticky around the heart stuck to his teeth. “I love you more than anything. Of course I’ll miss you, is that..is that even a question?” Jungwon sounds frantic, lost. As if he never expected his love for Heeseung, of all things, to be put into question.
It’s the ivy’s fault. The ivy, poison in his brain, a blanket over his eyes. Heeseung can’t see he…he can’t.
Heeseung swallows and turns his head away. He places his hands over Jungwon’s fingers and gently peels them away from his shirt.
“Maybe it is,” he forces out, hoarsely. Suddenly his throat feels dry. He doesn’t look at Jungwon. The silence feels heavier, suffocating. “My flight’s at one tomorrow, I should sleep.”
It’s final, an ending. Heeseung still doesn’t look at Jungwon.
He’s always been weak for Jungwon’s eyes. The irises that hold galaxies and joy, knowledge and depths of thought that even Heeseung hasn’t fully explored yet.
He turns around. Jungwon can take their room tonight, Heeseung won’t be in it for two months anyway, the younger may as well get used to it.
Before he can leave, there’s a tug on his shirt from the back. Jungwon’s fingers are curled around the hem, barely holding on to Heeseung.
“Hyung please,” Heeseung hears the hushed desperation in his voice, verging hysterical in its whisper. He feels Jungwon tighten his grip as if he’ll be able to hold Heeseung in place just like that. “Don’t go.”
Jungwon’s voice sounds fragile as glass, Heeseung feels like he’s walking on a tightrope. He knows Jungwon’s heart has slipped through his bloodied lips judging by the ragged breaths behind him. If he just turns around and—
He can’t do this today. Heeseung walks out. Instead of pointlessly scratching the ivy from his eyes, he rips through it as he walks away, and lets it flutter onto the floor, leaving the carnage behind him. Maybe he’ll regret it tomorrow, maybe he’ll regret it forever.
He doesn’t stop to grab anything but his phone, keys, and wallet, disappearing out the front door, down the stairs, and out into the night. Away from ivy and thorns and venom, into the shallow nothingness of the world.
Heeseung walks away from the rumbling washing machines, the barking dog in one of the first floor units, and the crying baby in need of its mother.
His baby might be crying too. It might be Heeseung’s fault.
The thought stops him in his tracks. Heeseung presses the palms of his hands against his eyelids, wills the tears back. He sees flashes of bright light when a car passes by him on the street, hears the steady buzz of the streetlight.
He counts to ten, deep and slow. He still doesn’t feel calm. There’s no ivy to shadow and shelter him, there’s nothing out here at all. His hands are shaking as he pulls out his phone and clicks the second number listed under speed dial.
(The first is Jungwon’s. The contact picture Heeseung has set for him is from the last time they hosted dinner at their unit. Jungwon’s peering down at a pot of broth, face scrunched up endearingly. Jungwon begged him to change it, said he looked stupid. Heeseung still thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.)
“Hello?” Jay sounds awake. Thank god Heeseung didn’t wake him up.
“Yeah, um,” Heeseung clears his throat, “hey, Jay-ah, can I come over?”
The line is silent for a moment, Heeseung can hear all of the questions on the tip of his friend’s tongue. There isn’t ivy in Heeseung’s peripheral anymore, just a single stray thorn twisting in his gut.
“Okay,” Jay agrees. “Do you need me to come get you?”
The one thing Heeseung loves about Jay is that he knows when to comfort and when to confront. Heeseung will have to deal with the latter sooner or later, but, for now, Jay will provide him the former.
“No, no, I’ll walk,” Heeseung assures the younger. “See you soon Jay-ah.”
“Alright hyung, be safe.”
Be safe. Heeseung looks up, sees their window. It’s still dark.
Be safe Jungwon-ah, he thinks to himself. Be safe.
It’s a stupid thing to ask for, especially when Heeseung’s the one who left him in there: bloody heart on the floor, thorns digging into his ribs, and ivy crawling over his skin.
—
Jay doesn’t say a word when he lets Heeseung in. They’d said their goodbyes yesterday, Heeseung wasn’t supposed to see him again for four months. Alas, here he is.
Jay slides half a bowl of yukgaejang in front of him at his kitchen island, studies Heeseung in silence as he eats.
“I’m only going to ask you one question,” is what he ultimately decides on. Heeseung just nods.
“Is Jungwon okay? Because you’re definitely not.”
Heeseung blinks, studies the pattern of the laminate on Jay’s counter, that one turmeric stain that—no matter how much Jay scrubbed—didn’t come out.
Is Jungwon okay?
The answer is no, probably not, because Heeseung left him there alone. The answer is yes, because that’s what Jungwon would want him to say. The answer is Heeseung doesn’t know anything at all.
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Jay doesn’t say anything for a long moment. When Heeseung looks up, his lips are pressed together in a thin line. It could be worry, it could be disappointment.
“Okay. Is he safe at least?”
Maybe Heeseung should be mad at Jay for questioning whether he’d leave his boyfriend in a genuinely unsafe scenario. He’s felt too much anger today already, though, so he lets it wash into a staticky plane of pondering instead.
Is Jungwon safe?
The answer is yes because their neighborhood is safe enough, and even if it wasn’t, Jungwon has a black belt in taekwondo. The answer is no because Heeseung left him in a bedroom full of thorns and poison ivy, coughing up the sticky bits of his heart.
“He’s at home.”
Jay nods, satisfied.
Heeseung finishes the rest of the yukgaejang in silence, letting the buzz of the refrigerator and the clink of his chopsticks against the bowl lull him into a thoughtless space. Jay and Sunoo’s place is nice, well-lit. Sunoo always makes sure the ambiance is up to par, and Jay always complies with his wishes.
The next hour or so is a blur, Jay puts a new toothbrush in his empty hands, along with a change of clothes.
“Don’t take too long if you decide to shower, Sunoo will throw a fit if we have to turn on the exhaust this late,” Jay warns.
The water drills against his back for a couple of minutes before it starts to feel like tears running down his face, and Heeseung realizes that he’s too close to melting in his friend’s bathroom with only the spider on the frosted window as a witness.
He slides out of the shower, into the clothes. Heeseung doesn’t look at himself in the mirror as he rinses out his mouth and brushes his teeth. He doesn’t want to see the poison rashes, the pricks on his skin from the thorns.
He can’t think an inch outside of the four walls that surround him without bumping into Jungwon’s name, so he reels his thoughts back in and towards the scrape of the toothbrush over his teeth, the painful rake when the bristles touch his gums. He tastes iron in the way he’s rubbed raw, but when he rinses his mouth, the water comes out clear.
Heeseung blinks. He could’ve sworn he tasted blood. He doesn’t look into the mirror to check.
He finally opens the door, prepared to slip into the spare bedroom that Jay and Sunoo haven’t needed since they went from being roommates to…in love. The hallway is dark, and Heeseung nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Sunoo waiting against the wall across from him. Heeseung looks around frantically, but Jay’s nowhere to be seen.
“Uh…hey,” he says, shaking his head a little to shoo away the stray droplets in his hair. Sunoo wrinkles his nose.
“Hey.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“Uh, do you need somet–”
“What happened.”
Heeseung sighs. He would’ve preferred if the confrontation part of Jay’s dual comfort-confront strategy never actually came into fruition. Alas, Sunoo isn’t one to let him get away with things. Especially not when Jungwon’s involved.
“It’s complicated.”
Sunoo scoffs. “It’s you and Jungwon, it’s never been complicated.”
Heeseung can’t say anything to that, it’s Sunoo’s turn to sigh.
“Your flight is tomorrow, right?”
Heeseung nods.
“Be out of my house by 9:30. I don’t care what Jay says, you’re not hiding here. I don’t know what Won did, and I don’t know what you did, but I do know you love each other.” Sunoo gets close, right up to the point where Heeseung could probably count his eyelashes if he didn’t go cross eyed first. “Fix it, or it’s just going to fester into something uglier over the next four months.”
Sunoo pauses and breathes, the way Jungwon couldn’t earlier with the thorns poking at his lungs.
“Jungwon won’t pick up the phone,” he adds quietly, dangerously. “If I find out that you hurt him before pulling a disappearing act, I will find you Lee Heeseung, or so help me god.”
He finally steps out of Heeseung’s face, moving back towards his and Jay’s shared bedroom. He pauses just once, to turn around and say his last words. Sunoo’s confrontations never end with a promise, they usually end with a little bit of advice instead. He’s nice like that.
“Bandaids don’t fix bullet holes Heeseung-ssi. You of all people should know that.”
The door slams shut behind him.
It’s just like Kim Sunoo to make a Taylor Swift reference before his dramatic exit. He did the same thing when he broke up with Heeseung two years ago.
(Four months. They only dated for four months. They both call it insignificant, nothing but a speck in the grand scheme of things.)
While Heeseung lies on the bed in the spare room, glare from a streetlight right outside flooding in through the window, he has a thought.
(Four months. Four months is how long he’s supposed to leave Jungwon for. Four months could ruin everything.)
—
Heeseung wakes up with a start, murky whispers in his ears and molten nightmares behind his eyes that fly right open and shut again when he realizes how bright the sun streaming in through the curtainless window is.
He takes a deep breath in; one, two, the thorns prick him so he lets it back out again. The air doesn’t even want to stay in his lungs, it wants to be free. Heeseung’s trapped, Heeseung is the trap.
“What are you even saying?” He murmurs to himself, sleep lining his voice and slurring his speech as he stares up at the ceiling. There are those cheap plastic stars—probably glow in the dark at some point—pasted to the ceiling. This used to be Jay’s room, Sunoo got the master bedroom when they moved in because Jay’s a simp. But, even before him, even before them, it probably belonged to some kid who believed in aliens.
Jungwonie’s eyes are prettier than those stars, is the next thought that crosses his mind.
You’re so fucking stupid, the murky whisper sneers, hacking into a cough that Heeseung internally delights in. Die stupid nightmare. Die like those stars taped to the ceiling. Trapped. They’re trapped, not free to soar into the sky. Trapped in these stupid four walls.
The sky isn’t the limit, the fucking ceiling is.
It’s a stupid enough thought to get Heeseung moving. He reaches for his phone, and then blanches.
9:15
Fuck. Fuck.
Heeseung flies off of the bed that isn’t his, out of the room of dead stars, and straight to the door. He passes by Jay cooking bacon on the stove and Sunoo dangling his legs off the counter while he scrolls through his phone.
“Oh! Good morning hyung!”
Jay raises his hand in greeting, looking a little confused at Heeseung’s haphazard rush. Heeseung’s usually a mess in the morning, but a lazy mess, not a hurried one.
Heeseung freezes and looks at Sunoo who raises an eyebrow and pointedly glances at the digital clock on the microwave.
9:17
“Morning, bye!”
He waves awkwardly before shoving his feet into his shoes while Jay yells.
“Ya! Lee Heeseung, those are my clothes you’re wearing! And shouldn’t you say bye properly? I’m not going to see you for four mont–”
Heeseung slams the door shut behind him before Jay can finish that thought. He doesn’t want him to finish that particular thought. Heeseung comes to the realization that he wants to hear a lot more of Jay’s stupid thoughts, just not right now.
He doesn’t want to wait four months either.
Heeseung doesn’t even realize that he’s running until he’s halfway home, and even after that, he doesn’t want to stop. He whips by little boys on their bikes, and students running late to school, old ladies on their porches, and office workers waiting for the bus.
Then, he sees the little red tent tucked into the side of the street, and comes to a screeching halt.
“Hyung! Hyung, come on, please? What better way to get to know a neighborhood than to eat its food!”
Heeseung rolls his eyes fondly, but lets Jungwon drag him toward the tent all the same. They’d just finished lugging boxes and dragging heavy furniture into their new unit, he wasn’t about to turn down a snack.
The woman running the tent has a kind face, the type of wrinkles that map out a good life, a fulfilling one. The griddle is steaming, the butter generous, and the food scalding on his tongue. She gives Heeseung a wink and a free coffee that tastes like hazelnuts and something smokey, something homey.
Jungwon moans out something unintelligible after his first bite, and Heeseung’s ears go pink at the sound as he gives the poor lady an apologetic look. She just laughs, looking at Jungwon with intense fondness.
“Ajumma, this is the best gilgeori toast I’ve ever had in my life, seriously,” Jungwon says with such earnesty as he eagerly pulls the foil down so he can get a bigger bite. Heeseung puts a hand to the back of his neck and squeezes gently. Jungwon looks up and smiles at him.
Heeseung doesn’t snap out of the dream until he finds himself right in front of the boy under the tent. He has floppy bangs, slanted almond eyes, he kind of resembles a puppy in a way.
“You’re not Joohyeon-ssi,” is out of his mouth before he can contain his confusion. The boy manning the griddle looks up with slight surprise.
“You know halmeoni?”
“Thank you so much uhh..” Heeseung clams up, not knowing what name to refer to the older woman as.
She laughs, the sound raspy and smooth in the same breath, like a river over rocks. “Just call me Joohyeon-ssi.”
Heeseung grins, grasping the older woman’s hand in his. “Alright, Joohyeon-ssi, we’ll see you again soon.”
Soon ended up being a month later when Heeseung caught sight of her tent on his way to Jay’s. He stopped for a quick chat. He came back again the next month, and again, and again.
“Heeseung.” Joohyeon sounds serious, Heeseung looks up from his steaming hazelnut coffee with a hum. The air is chilly today, his nose tinted pink and beanie tucked over his head.
He’d been telling Joohyeon about this morning, when Jungwon scolded him for not wearing a proper jacket when he went out last night, and shoved him into a thick, woolly scarf that Heeseung’s pretty sure his mother knit.
“That boy loves you, and you love that boy.”
The statement is so sudden that Heeseung startles, cursing under his breath when the hot coffee seeps under his glove. Joohyeon pays him no mind as he hops around, trying to stuff it with snow to soothe the burn. As soon as he calms down, he meets her twinkling eyes, and they promptly burst into laughter.
The next month, he comes back with an even bigger grin, telling her that Jungwon’s his boyfriend now. She smiles back, warm, proud…wary.
A month after that, he comes with a pout, asking for gilgeori toast for Jungwon. He tells her it’s an apology, he’d upset Jungwon and now the younger was acting stiff.
“Love isn’t always easy, Heeseung,” she tells him as she sprinkles a little extra sugar on the toast. She winks, “Some extra sweetness today will go a long way.”
Heeseung chuckles, and they settle back into comfortable silence as she works.
“Love isn’t always easy, Heeseung,” she repeats, pressing a coffee that materialized out of nowhere into his hands, “but as long as you keep caring, it will always win.”
She slides the wrapped toast towards him. “Go home to your boy, always.”
Heeseung blinks, the illusion is gone. The boy is still standing in front of him, right where Joohyeon was standing two months ago. Heeseung had missed his time to meet up with her this month, too caught up in figuring out the logistics of his trip.
He’s here now, though.
“Yeah, I know Joohyeon-ssi. Is she okay?”
The boy gives him a sad smile. It’s all the answer Heeseung needs.
“Oh…well…”
This isn’t the place to think about it. There are vendors across the street haggling, women pushing their baby strollers around, toddlers screeching about things that are entirely insignificant. This isn’t the place.
Late, the voice hisses in his head. You’re too late.
Heeseung clears his throat.
“Okay, um, can I have two gilgeori toasts please?”
The boy nods. Heeseung watches him move with less sureness than Joohyeon had, less practice in his movements. The batter splatters a bit when the boy flips it on the griddle and Heeseung flinches. Joohyeon used to say that she put extra sugar on the toast to counteract the sourness of the cabbage. This boy doesn’t do that.
Heeseung smiles, a melancholy little thing. How fitting.
He doesn’t notice until the boy is pushing the wrapped foil toward him that today there’s no free hazelnut coffee on the side. Something’s stuck in his throat, something he could never ask for.
“Thanks,” is what he says instead with a dip of his head, placing the money on the counter. Before Heeseung can run away, the boy grabs his sleeve.
“Hey man, it’s going to be okay,” the boy says with a comforting grin. It looks a little more like a grimace, but Heeseung looks carefully into his eyes. He has Joohyeon’s smile, her eyes. This is her grandson.
He can’t say anything, so he just nods, turning away and forging on. Heeseung has places to be.
Go home to your boy, always.
It’s going to be okay.
Wisdom must run in the blood, Heeseung thinks.
—
By the time he arrives home, the toast is cooling in his hands. Heeseung struggles to unlock the door without dropping anything, but even after all the noise he makes while stumbling in, the unit remains dead silent.
“...Jungwon?” He calls softly. Jungwon’s usually up earlier than he is, Heeseung glaces at his phone just to be sure.
10:15
He makes to move further into the house before letting out a little shriek when he almost trips over something small. He looks down, heart in his throat, before immediately deflating when he realizes that it’s just Maeumi, bushy-tailed and sparkly-eyed.
“Hey baby,” he whispers, crouching down to scratch him behind the ears. Maeum licks his fingers with gusto and Heeseung laughs fondly. “You scared me dude.”
He waits for his heart rate to slow back down, petting Maeumi’s head gently as the puppy circles around, trying to sniff all the new scents off of Heeseung. Heeseung realizes that he probably smells more like Jay than himself, he’s shocked Maeumi didn’t bark at him at all.
“It’s only because I brought food, isn’t it,” he accuses with a pout while Maeumi paws at his knee, clearly aiming for the foil in his hands. “Maeum, baby, you’d make an awful guard dog.”
Maeumi doesn’t seem offended, and Heeseung lets out an amused huff of air as he lets the puppy do as he pleases. Maeumi’s always responded better to Jungwon anyway. He only started to accept Heeseung when the latter started sneaking him scraps of food.
Right, Jungwon.
Reality sets in slowly now that he’s crouched down in the entryway. He has to talk to Jungwon, Jungwon who most likely really doesn’t want to talk to him. Heeseung lets out a steadying breath. He can do this.
“Now where’s your other dad, little guy?” He asks, more or less rhetorically, scratching the puppy under his chin. Maeumi is no help, simply cocking his head to the side and watching Heeseung stand. He seems a little put out when the foil is placed on the table instead of in his mouth. Heeseung sticks his tongue out at him before venturing out into the hall.
Heeseung’s brow furrows as he pads over to their bedroom and swings the door open. He cringes as the hinges squeak, but when he looks in, the scene looks exactly as it did last night when Heeseung left.
Light floats in through the windows, reflecting upon Heeseung’s half packed suitcase, the balled up t-shirt that he’d dropped on the floor. The closet light is still on, something Jungwon would never tolerate under normal conditions.
It feels like a crime scene, shriveled up ivy and decaying poison. Heeseung shivers as he steps back out into the hall. No wonder Maeumi chose to wait by the entrance instead.
“Jungwon?” He calls again, louder this time. He pokes his head into the living room, their little dining table. He’s not there.
The only place left is the bathroom.
“Please be here, Jungwon, god,” he mutters to himself as he stalks towards the door. Heeseung doesn’t know what he’ll do if Jungwon got up and left without leaving him any sort of message. It’s an awful thought.
He swings open the bathroom door and gasps.
The first reaction to all the red is panic. Heeseung’s heart jumps back into his throat, the fear ten times worse than it was when he tripped over Maeumi. Jungwon’s slumped over by the edge of the bathtub, head resting on the ledge. His hands are stained a bright, visceral red. The tub is filled with water that’s also red. The tiled floor by the tub is wet, water spilling over. Jungwon’s hair is tousled, the hoodie he’s drowning in is Heeseung’s, the hem of the sleeves stained red.
It’s like Jungwon collected the dredges of his heart from their bedroom floor, and spilled them here to bleed out instead. It soaks into everything, the smell of poison, of heartbreak.
Heeseung resists the urge to throw up, and rushes to Jungwon’s side instead. There’s red dried to his temple, hair still damp to the touch. Jungwon feels cold, but there’s a a familiar rosy sheen to his cheeks, a steady up and down of his chest. Heeseung tries to breathe, but the thorns press in on his lungs.
“Jungwon?” He knows his voice is shaking as he crouches down next to his boyfriend, shaking him by the shoulder. “Yang Jungwon?”
Jungwon stirs, letting out a small hum. Heeseung holds his breath until Jungwon cracks an eye open. “Hyung?” His voice is raspy with misuse, waterlogged by what must be tears, but he’s okay. God, he’s really okay.
“What were you doing?” Heeseung whisper yells, motioning to the bathroom. He takes Jungwon’s hand in his, examines the red staining his skin. It’s not blood, but…but.
Jungwon scrunches up his face, still trying to wake up. Heeseung feels a wave of guilt hit once the fear starts to ebb away. One tide after another it seems. Jungwon had fallen asleep here, on the bathroom floor.
Jungwon mumbles something unintelligible, Heeseung leans closer. “What?”
“I was dyeing my hair,” Jungwon says again. He has that haughty look on his face, the expression he wears when he’s trying to sound confident and not embarrassed.
The fear completely eases out of Heeseung then, the only proof it was ever there at all in the slight tremor of his hands. He lets out a huff of incredulous laughter, more of a shock response than one of genuine amusement.
He raises an eyebrow. Fair enough, Jungwon wanted to dye his hair red, except…
“Without bleaching it first?”
Jungwon doesn’t respond to that one, sticking his bottom lip out petulantly as he turns away. Heeseung tries to hide his grin, knowing Jungwon’s watching him in his peripheral. His boyfriend tends to make rebellious, spontaneous decisions only when he’s angry. He generally fails early on in the process too, unaccustommed to the rebel life.
“Don’t laugh at me!” The younger whines, frowning. He looks like a disgruntled kitten, hair in disarray, and water cooling on his skin.
Heeseung settles down, hands soothing. Jungwon doesn’t seem too put off with his appearance for now, but Heeseung knows that it’s only a matter of time before he wakes up fully and remembers his anger.
“Okay, okay,” Heeseung placates, running a hand down the knobs of Jungwon’s spine like he’d wanted to yesterday, feeling Jungwon melt under his touch. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He maneuvers Jungwon until the younger is sitting on the toilet cover while he pulls the drain on the tub and throws a couple of towels on the floor to soak up the excess water. He can scrub the dye out later.
Your flight’s in under three hours, what later? The nightmare voice asks. Heeseung scoffs, that’s a stupid question.
Jungwon’s still bleary eyed when Heeseung pulls the hoodie off him. It’s most likely ruined, but Heeseung supposes he kind of deserves that much.
He isn’t sure if Jungwon chose to wear his hoodie due to comfort, or with the thought in his head that dyeing is a messy process and if anyone deserved to have their clothes sacrificed for Jungwon’s mission, it’s Heeseung.
He finds that his heart swells either way.
Finally, he coaxes Jungwon into the shower, and lets the water pour over them both.
Under the warm spray, Heeseung dismantles his feelings, feels them melt out of his ears and into his vision. He’s upset, mostly with himself. Why weren’t you here? Why did you go? He told you not to leave, why did you leave?
He steadily scrubs as much of the dye out of Jungwon’s skin as he can, watches the red rivulets travel down the arc of his neck, the planes of his back.
There are dark circles under Jungwon’s eyes. Who knows what time it was when he fell asleep on the cold tiled floor.
Heeseung moves his hands up to Jungwon’s hair next, murmuring at his boyfriend to keep his eyes shut as he lathers his scalp with shampoo. The white foam comes out pink, and Jungwon leans against his body, soaking up the warmth. His hair looks the same, despite the red flowing out from under Heeseung’s careful fingertips. Jungwon sighs, the breath hot against Heeseung’s collarbone.
The pasty pallor of Jungwon’s skin slowly goes pink with all of Heeseung’s scrubbing until he decides it’s enough. Jungwon’s hands are still stained, the dye might take weeks to come out.
Red rashes, like ivy. You left him with the ivy. Your fault, your fault.
Heeseung helps Jungwon out of the tub, wrapping him in a fluffy white towel.
“I’m gonna go grab some clothes, okay?”
Jungwon nods, eyes already fluttering closed again as he leans against the wall. Heeseung flicks on the exhaust on his way out, the mirror’s already fogging up.
He rushes back with one of his hoodies and Jungwon’s sweatpants, helping his boyfriend into them. Minutes later they’re at the table, the foil-covered gilgeori toast sitting in front of them.
Jungwon looks rejuvenated, more awake now. He looks up at Heeseung, face pink and fresh, eyes keen. “For me?” He asks, motioning at the foil. Heeseung just nods, already ripping his open and taking a bite.
He immediately recoils. It’s cold and not the way Joohyeon usually makes it, why–
Oh. Right.
He sneaks a look across the table at Jungwon who’s chewing on a small bite. The younger physically makes an effort to swallow before giving Heeseung a shaky grin.
“It’s good.”
Heeseung nods again.
Jungwon gently places the toast to the side before clearing his throat. “So,” he starts, “it’s,” he trails off, craning his neck to look behind Heeseung and at the clock. “It’s past eleven? Hyung?”
Jungwon looks at Heeseung wide-eyed. “Your flight? You need to go check-in and–”
Heeseung puts a hand over Jungwon’s. He doesn’t want to hear the end of that thought.
“I’m not going.”
Jungwon’s expression doesn’t change immediately. He twitches, eyes scanning over Heeseung’s face. Heeseung hopes the ivy that covered his heart last night has shriveled up and died. He hopes Jungwon can read him again. Like glass, like a fairytale.
“We both said some stupid things last night.”
Heeseung shakes his head. “I said some stupid things last night,” he counters.
He means it. Jungwon was just trying to bare his heart, Heeseung had no reason to bare his teeth.
“Okay,” Jungwon acquiesces. “But you were right, I should’ve said something earlier instead of waiting until the last minute.”
It’s clear that Jungwon’s out of tears, but his eyes are earnest. Heeseung didn’t expect anything less, he smiles warmly.
“Yeah, you should have,” he agrees. “But I shouldn’t have put the weight of the decision on you like that either. You wanted what’s best for me, and you were under the impression that I wanted to go.”
“So we’re both at fault,” is Jungwon’s conclusion.
“Or, maybe, no one’s at fault at all,” Heeseung counters, a shine in his eyes. Jungwon raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.
They bask in the silence for a moment. The refrigerator hums, Jungwon idly fiddles with the foil wrapper on his toast, Heeseung grins a secret little grin at the rumble of the washing machines downstairs. He doesn’t know how he slept without it.
“I’m not going,” he repeats, staring at Jungwon as if he still needs to convince him.
Jungwon knows what he’s fishing for, so he sighs fondly, and bites the bait.
“Why?”
Why.
Because I love you, because you love me, because I love us.
“There are more important things.”
Jungwon’s lips twitch, the ghost of a smile.
“Like?”
Heeseung grins.
“Like…” He looks around, then lights up. “Like Maeumi!” He cheers, ceremoniously lifting the dog onto the table and offering him a bite of the nasty gilgeori.
“Lee Heeseung!” Jungwon shrieks even as he laughs, batting the poor toast away from Maeumi. “You spoil him!”
Heeseung smiles, eyes alight with mischief as he leans across the table.
“Aww, is my baby jealous? Don’t worry Jungwonie, I’ll spoil you too,” he coos in a high pitched voice.
Jungwon scrunches up his nose, even as his cheeks go pink. “You better,” he whispers, eyes locking in on Heeseung as he leans forward in his seat.
Heeseung smiles, a promise already sealed to his lips when they kiss.
Lips like rosebuds, Jungwon has thorns. But that’s okay, because Heeseung does too.
“You’re sure? Really, you’re sure?” Jungwon breathes out when they finally part, eyes searching for the truth in Heeseung’s. Jungwon’s heart is nestled back into its little window, Heeseung can see it again. It’s clear, it’s lovely, it’s in love.
“Always,” Heeseung confirms, standing up and pulling Jungwon up to his chest. He tilts his chin upwards with two fingers, brushes the tender spot under his eye. “Always.”
Jungwon grins; there are stars in his eyes. Live ones, sparkling and scintillating, shifting in the light. They glow in the dark, they believe in forevers.
They kiss again, ivy arching over their heads. This time it blooms.