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it’s late, it’s dark, and jeonghan is beginning to curse himself out in his head for wearing only a t-shirt, shorts, and slides when he knows it’s close to freezing outside.
the harbour is quiet as jeonghan quietly makes his way beside it. the streetlights illuminate the gray pavements, but they make the sky look blacker than it really is. a lone boat sits on top of the water, swaying quietly from the ripples that can’t seem to settle themselves against the concrete. he hears the gentle creaking of the panels, shifting from the motion, and he briefly wonders if that’s how boats wear themselves out over time.
his apartment stands tall up ahead, building dark, save for the various units with their blinds open and lights on. they have no pattern to them, no rhythm. he tries counting the intervals at which there are lights coming from within the unit, to no avail. people stay awake when they want to. people sleep when they want to. people do as they please; come, go, stay.
jeonghan wonders when the last time someone new came into his life was. jeonghan wonders who he really has when it comes down to it.
as he battles the cold, putting his hands into his sweater sleeves and arms around his torso, he picks up the pace, heading for his apartment. he should probably get into the lobby to lessen his chances of developing hypothermia, but jeonghan finds himself wanting to stay out a little longer despite the cold.
what does he have back at home anyway? bleak white walls. a room with barely anything inside it that screams his personality. a bed. a dining table. a bathroom. a house, but not home. just four walls and a roof, not home. jeonghan slowly begins to realize he's not even heading home. he's just heading back.
if he were still a teenager, in high school, when all he had to worry about were deadlines and petty drama, he'd call up a friend. they'd surely be up, he'd come over, sneak in through a window, and maybe they'll watch a movie until one of them falls asleep.
he's twenty eight. he has an apartment of his own, and no friends for it to host. he can't remember the last time he had an actual conversation with another human being.
jeonghan is twenty eight when he stands at the harbour at nearly midnight, looking out on the water, watching as it fractured the moonlight descending from the skies. jeonghan is twenty eight when he feels the sudden urge to walk into the water, to hold himself under until he no longer feels the need to come up for air.
jeonghan is twenty eight when he finally accepts that he's lonely.
jeonghan is twenty eight when he realizes he needs to do something if he wants things to change.