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The first blush of spring.
The park was small, and bland, with barely any greenery, or pretty artifacts, it was more desert than a park, nobody ever visited that place, and so Yoongi often did.
It was an evening of an ascending spring, the wind had begun to get warm, a little calloused against the skin with its dry touch. Yoongi was sitting on the swing, small hands gripping the chain in a secure grip as he moved back and forth, bored out of his mind, looking around the empty park.
That’s when Yoongi first saw him.
He is small was the first thing to come to Yoongi’s mind when his eyes landed on him. He was perched by the slides, knees folded on the ground in a prayer position, hunched over something Yoongi couldn't see clearly; the warm sand against his legs, the color of sunset melting on his skin as he focused meticulously on something.
Yoongi feared the boy was crying.
He did not mean to stare but that’s what he had been doing the past five minutes, had been staring at the boy, young, boyish, his shoulder shaking, somehow restrained, hands moving endlessly carefully, working on something on the ground.
Yoongi was curious.
He got off of the swing, his legs working on their accord as he walked over to the boy, who did not look up even once, who was unaware of Yoongi’s presence until he stopped a few steps away from him until the sound of his footsteps broke the spell of focus the boy was fallen into.
“What are you doing?” Yoongi asked.
The boy peered up at Yoongi, startled at the sight, his wide eyes revealing the nervousness in them, he resembled a deer before a hunter, a predator. Yoongi felt bad for the kid, who probably was scared of him, and probably imagined him as a big bad bully terrorizing the park. He looked younger than Yoongi, a lot younger than him.
Yoongi tilted his head, gaze falling on the honeycomb candy the boy was hunched over, almost shielding it with his body, the tiny needle in between his fingers and Yoongi’s fear was almost right, the boy was not crying, but he did look on the verge of tears.
“Need help with that?” Yoongi motioned towards the candy.
The boy was still as a statue before Yoongi, small nervous puffs of air making his chest rise and fall rapidly. Yoongi did not expect the boy to reply or to move at all, but, then, quietly, he sat up, back straight, and slowly, with one hand, he slid the candy towards Yoongi.
“It’s a yes, then.”
Yoongi plopped himself on the ground beside the boy, reaching out a hand to ask for the needle. Wordlessly, the boy passed the needle and with hesitant movement, shuffled closer to Yoongi as he picked up the candy and started tracing out the shape, tapping the needle gently, cautiously, against the candy.
Dry wind wisped Yoongi’s hair, the boy was so still Yoongi would’ve thought he left if it was not for the heat radiating his body, if it was not for his breathing so obvious, so close to him, the weight of his gaze pressing against’s Yoongi’s skin, whose hand shook suddenly, pressured, he held the needle tightly, trying to trace the candy.
“It looks like you.” This was the first time the boy had spoken, his voice a bashed hush.
Yoongi looked up from his work and the boy’s eyes widened, not expecting the sudden contact, he quickly averted his gaze staring down at his hand. The tip of his ears was red, a touch of fire. Yoongi wondered if it was the sun or embarrassment, he deemed it to be the latter, judging by the way the boy wrung his fingers in his lap.
Yoongi blinked at the candy, at the shape of a cat drawn over the sugar, just a face, a circle, two triangles on top suggesting a pair of ears, two small dots inside the circle, in place of eyes.
“Does it?” Yoongi found himself asking, confused.
The boy nodded, still not meeting his eyes.
“Okay.” Yoongi shrugged, going back to his work.
He carved out the cat, successfully from the candy, the rest of it crushed, and discarded on the little tray. Yoongi placed the finished product in the boy’s hand who stared at it with bright eyes, then at Yoongi who bristled at the raw expression of awe on his face, the naked admiration.
The boy took the candy and brought it between his two hands as if to break
“Wait! What are you doing?” Yoongi interrupted him.
Taken by surprise, the boy looked up at yoongi, and said, “Splitting it.”
“Why? Did you not want the cat?”
The boy shook his head, a tiny white flower tucked into his hair that Yoongi only noticed now, it moved gracefully with the wave of his hair. Yoongi frowned.
“So that we can share.”
He broke the candy in two, a perfect crack at the center splitting it into two equal halves and he pushed one towards Yoongi, waiting with an awkward smile for him to take the candy. It had been a while since Yoongi ate any; it was made of sugar, his mom always told him that sugar was bad for his teeth but, at that moment, he did not have it in his heart to tell that the boy, so, he reached out and took it.
The boy grinned at him in an unexpected alliance and sat down comfortably, his blue shorts catching sand in them, as he crossed his legs and began eating the sweet. Yoongi watched the boy before, mimicking his movement to shuffle and sit comfortably as well, and brought the candy to his lips.
“It’s tasty, right?” The boy turned to give Yoongi a toothy smile, a speck of candy stuck on the front teeth as if it was a secret only they knew.
Yoongi nodded, too busy eating, the taste of caramel bursting on his tongue. It only made the grin on the boy’s face bigger and he giggled, amused, too full of joy.
They ate in silence, surrounded by the birds singing a song about farewell as they headed home, and by dogs barking as they chased their owners down the street. They ate in silence; the silence they both had too much inside them. Yoongi was surprised at how easy it felt, not awkward at all.
“What is your name?” The boy asked once he was finished eating his candy.
The sharing of the candy and the quiet company breaking down his walls. He didn’t look nervous now, not scared of Yoongi.
“Min Yoongi, yours?”
“Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk.”
“Jeongguk, how old are you?”
“Seven.”
“Ah, so I was right.”
“About what?” Jeongguk asked, dumbfounded. His round cheeks only got rounder as he spoke, pronouncing words with a cute little pout on his face.
Yoongi shook his head, and instead, said, “I am ten years old.” then “What are you doing here alone? It’s too late.”
Jeongguk stared up at the sky, uncertainty dancing on his features. He looked on the verge of tears again, Yoongi would hate himself forever if he made that boy cry. Jeongguk pulled his knees up, hugging them close to his chest as he whispered, a confession, under his breath.
“I ran away from home.”
Yoongi parted his lips to ask another question, but Jeongguk beat him to it with the answer already.
“My hyung ate all my snacks, so I took his candy and ran here.”
It took a second for Yoongi to register his words and decipher the meaning, and as he did, he stared at Jeongguk in shock.
“The candy we just ate was not yours?” He asked.
Jeongguk bit his lips, shaking his head at Yoongi, watching him in amusement. He let out a laugh, the loudest Yoongi had heard that boy be. The little sound he made in between the strings of laughter, a cacophony of joy, all of it made Yoongi laugh too, and they sat there laughing, the sound of their laughter resonating in the playground, getting louder every time their eyes met.
“It is getting dark though,” Yoongi said, sobering up, still his lips pulled into a smile, “You should head home now. Me too.”
“I know. But, I can’t” Jeongguk admitted, eyes searching around the playground, restless.
“Why?”
Jeongguk did not answer, eyes still looking around, uncertain, not meeting Yoongi.
It made Yoongi feel as if, “Are you scared?”
Again, Jeongguk did not say anything, but the way his gaze stopped searching and faltered confirmed Yoongi’s doubt. Jeongguk swallowed, fidgeting with the hem of his shorts, he did not say anything, but he didn’t need to.
“Do you want me to walk you home?”
Jeongguk turned to look at Yoongi, so open and obvious, his heart reflecting in his eyes. A look of a plea, so polite, not wanting to be a bother, but still hopeful.
“Do you know the way?” Jeongguk said,
Yoongi shook his head, “But, you know it, right?”
A nod.
“Then you tell me and I will take you, okay?” Yoongi explained to him.
“Okay,” jeongguk whispered, adoring.
“Okay.”
Yoongi pulled himself up from the ground, dusting his pants hastily, he turned to look down at Jeongguk and offered him a hand with a smile.
“Come on, Jeonggukie. Let’s get you home.”
Jeongguk’s hand sticky with sugar and sweet like childhood dreams slipped into Yoongi’s as Yoongi helped him onto his feet and it did not let go of him, all the way, to the home.
Wishes upon a shooting star.
Yoongi entered his house and was immediately swept off his feet by the blending smell of spices and fish oil, the undertones of sugar bouncing on his taste buds already.
His mother's singing welcomed him as she hummed a melody Yoongi danced his childhood to. He trailed towards the kitchen, following the song, and in the kitchen, he found his mother knelt on the floor mixing the vegetables in a big container, the slick sound of her pale green gloves rubbing against the spiced cabbages.
His mother looked up, catching sight of Yoongi, and a gummy smile he often saw himself in, formed on her face.
“You’re back!” his mom exclaimed.
“Hello.” Yoongi greeted her.
He leaned against the door, shoulder resting on the frame and he savored the moment, watching his mother make kimchi for the season, a taste of home.
“Jeongguk is here.” She informed him.
“Is he?”
Yoongi pulled himself straight to his feet, tilting his head to glance at the hallway leading down to his room.
Yoongi had gotten used to coming home to Jeongguk. He smiled, the apple of his cheeks tinted by the sun after the day he spent outdoors as he made his way towards his room.
Opening the door quietly, he poked his head inside to peek in, “I am back.”
Letting go of the doorknob, Yoongi entered the room and chuckled when his eyes landed on Jeongguk.
Jeongguk laid flat on his back on Yoongi’s bed, legs stretched up, resting against the wall and his head leaned back, against the bed frame, his hair flopping in the air, a mess of black curls. Yoongi had to look down to meet Jeongguk’s eyes.
“Mother let me in,” Jeongguk said, innocently, as a way of explanation.
Head fallen back, he peered up at Yoongi from below, his eyes meeting Yoongi’s chin instead. The early summer light filtered through the glass of the window casting a magical spell on his features, a holy glow collecting at the corner of his eyes as Jeongguk smiled, eyes crinkled.
He didn’t need anyone to let him in. Jeongguk lived there as much as Yoongi, he had claimed a part of the house just as a part of the heart of the people who owned it.
Yoongi nodded at him, walking over to his desk to get rid of his backpack, exhaustion seeping out of his body now that he was finally back in his room, finally back home.
“How was school?” he glanced at Jeongguk who made an offended face at the question.
“Let’s not talk about that.” Jeongguk sighed, tired, troubled.
“Why? Did something happen at school? You can tell hyung.”
Pulling out the desk chair, Yoongi sat down and massaged his tensed shoulders, all of his attention now focused on Jeongguk who shifted uncomfortably under the weight of it as he pulled himself into a sitting position.
“It’s just, I don’t know.” he huffed in annoyance, crossing his legs, “I am so dumb.”
“I see,” Yoongi said sympathetically.
Jeongguk gasped, a dramatic sound escaping his lips, he raised a finger, pointing at Yoongi almost in accusation, “Hyung! You! You are not supposed to say that. You should, I don’t know, reassure me?”
“And how do I do that?”
“Say something like Jeongguk you are not dumb, don’t be too hard on yourself. You are extremely intelligent and pretty too.”
With a roll of his eyes, Yoongi recited Jeongguk’s exact words in a monotone. “Jeongguk you are not dumb, don’t be too hard on yourself. You are extremely intelligent and pretty too.” Yoongi recited Jeongguk’s words, monotonously.
He stifled laughter, the sound muffled against his palm as Jeongguk groaned, who upon catching Yoongi hold in a laugh, kicked his legs on the bed like a child denied his favorite toy.
“No! That's not what I meant. God, you are so mean.”
He glared at Yoongi, pouting, cheeks puffed up and it filled Yoongi with fondness and adoration for the younger, his little antics, the cute lisps.
“Sorry.”
Jeongguk turned his face away, feigning anger, “Apology not accepted.”
“Why?”
“That’s what you get for being mean to me.” It was endearing how he pouted while talking without even realizing it.
“Okay, then, how can I earn your forgiveness?”
Yoongi sighed and he knew he hit the nail as Jeongguk practically jumped with excitement, grinning widely at him, shining with a glow of Christmas lights.
“Buy me candies.”
“Your sweet tooth is going to leave me bankrupt,” Yoongi commented, not denying the request or more like a command.
“It’s okay we’ll figure something out if that happens. Now, come on, let’s go.”
Jeonggk was quick to get up on his feet, now that candies were a possibility, he stood on the bed, looking down at Yoongi with anticipation.
“I need to change,” Yoongi dragged himself off of the chair, and paused to say, “which reminds me, why are you on the bed with your uniform still on?”
“You want me on your bed naked?” Jeongguk made a horrified face, despite knowing the real meaning behind Yoongi’s words.
A shriek made them turn their heads abruptly and standing at the door of his room was Yoongi’s mom with a scandalous face that seemed to be heating up red and a tray of snacks.
Yoongi cursed under his breath, raising an arm in the air as if approaching a scared animal, “Mom, that’s not—”
“I just came to give you this.”
Slamming the tray so hard on the drawer that the crockery shook with force, Yoongi’s mother avoided their eyes and ran out of the room.
Yoongi sighed, there was no going back now, he turned towards Jeongguk whose face was red from holding in the laughter, and as soon as he saw the sour expression on Yoongi’s face, the laughter spilled out of him, loud, notes of joy falling over them.
“You little— Come here”
“But, I didn’t even do anything!”
Jeongguk squealed as Yoongi got his hands on him, and started tickling his sides, the laughter burst out of him like fireworks as he gasped for air. Yoongi didn’t budge an inch, as Jeongguk struggled in his hold, causing them to topple over on the bed, giving him enough leverage to squeeze Jeongguk under and attack him with tickles.
Jeongguk’s peals of laughter engulfed them, the most beautiful and freeing sound in the world.
Eternal moments.
Sometimes, Yoongi felt like he had known Jeongguk for a lifetime.
As if he had lived a lifetime with him before.
Because what else could explain the depth of Yoongi’s attention to every little detail when it came to Jeon Jeongguk? What was it that made everything linger inside him, echo within him?
The reason Yoongi knew every little thing about Jeongguk, every little bit that made up his entire being, every crook and nick of his bones, every soft curve of his heart, and the jagged edge of his mind.
Yoongi was made of Jeongguk.
Made of eternity the time would assume whenever they were together.
The sun seemed almost unreal, almost imaginary, burning, frozen, sewn to the sky with a thread of eternity. The chirping cicadas ringing in the air, the law in the backyard had grown a lot, Yoongi noticed.
They were sitting in the backyard, wet grass prodding against their thin clothes. The sweet, juicy smell of watermelon coated the humid air, sticking to their tanned skin.
Jeongguk swayed side to side, dancing to a song only he could hear, only playing for him, munching on the watermelon. cheeks round, squished as he took big bites of the fruit, the juice would trickle down to his chin, and immediately a pink tongue would dart out to lick it all off.
Catching Yoongi staring at him, he smiled sheepishly and put a hand in front of his mouth to cover his loud, obnoxious chewing, his nose scrunched as he smiled, eyes squinting, clearly enjoying the fresh delight.
Yoongi’s eyes flickered to the scar on his left cheek.
There was a scar on Jungkook’s cheek, right on the apple of it.
A scar he got from a fight with his brother. Jeongguk got in trouble for stealing his brother’s candies one day, the same day Yoongi met Jeongguk in that park, and they got into a fight over it. It was a harsh battle for a child like him, it left a mark on his cheek.
Sometimes, Yoongi wondered if Jeongguk realized; that the scar on his cheek meant more to Yoongi than it ever did to him.
Because it was not just a scar but a memory of an evening painted orange and sand clinging to the clothes.
Jeongguk never told anyone how he got that scar; too embarrassed to admit that he stole his brother’s candies and even though it should not, it made Yoongi happy that he never did.
A scar was a story.
And no one could understand Jeongguk’s stories like Yoongi.
“You’re staring,” Jeongguk turned his head, once again, catching Yoongi in the act.
The light caught in Jeongguk’s eyes rewrote constellations and unveiled something magical.
Yoongi lifted a hand, forefinger reaching out to touch the delicate skin of his cheek, resting right on top of the almost faded scar as Jeongguk watched him confused.
“This. I am staring at this.” Yoongi said.
“Why?”
Jeongguk’s finger was cool, sticky with watermelon juice, as it came to rest beside Yoongi’s, almost touching. As if he almost forgot about the scar, about the memory it carried, it meant for both of them.
“Nothing; just,” Yoongi whispered, eyes trained on the scar, on the scar hidden beneath their fingers, on their fingers touching, Jeongguk’s slimmer, softer than his.
“What does that even supposed to mean?” Jeongguk mumbled looking down, he took another bite of the watermelon slice.
Removing his hand, Yoongi smiled. “It’s pretty.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I mean it.”
“No, it’s not,” Jeongguk said, still chewing. “In fact, It lessens my beauty.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. I know more than you, so don’t argue.” Jeongguk fixed Yoongi with a challenging look.
“Still pretty,” Yoongi said, softly, a smile toying with his lips.
“Know what makes me pretty?” Jeongguk sat up, back straightening, shoulders squared.
“What?”
“My hair. I’ve gotten so many compliments since I started growing it out.” He grinned, fixing the bangs falling in his eyes, smoothing out the ones in the center, to adorn his features, and tucking the curled ends behind his ears.
“Yeah? It suits you.”
Yoongi watched him, a little mesmerized.
“I know. I am thinking about growing it long and nice. Then, I’ll be prettier.”
He held his hands to his shoulders, gesturing at the length of his hair. With his lips plush and pink with watermelon and the glow of the sun on his face, his skin turned a golden hue of dream and cheeks red with warmth. He did not need to do anything to look pretty, he just was, and he made it seem so effortless.
As if beauty was something so simple; as if people did not die a little every time they looked at him.
Yoongi watched Jeongguk go back to eating watermelon, picking up another slice from the plate. With the evening slowly approaching them with dizzy steps, the intoxication it laced made Yoongi light-headed too. He watched Jeongguk with his heart in his throat.
A masterpiece all over. An artist’s deepest desire comes true.
“You’re staring again. Seriously, stop it. It’s giving me the creeps.”
Yoongi barked out a laugh, averting his eyes away from Jeongguk towards the wildflowers growing in the backyard, only glancing back when he was sure Jeongguk was not aware.
And as the moment stretched, time began to move slower, Yoongi wished it would just stop.
In the midst of a dream.
“Are you fucking done yet?”
“Hyung! Not so loud! You’ll scare them off.”
Yoongi huffed, sweat gathered on his forehead dripping down to the side of his face. His shoulders burned under the weight of Jeongguk plopped on them too comfortably, legs swinging down to either side of Yoongi.
The shade of the tree was the only thing keeping the heat off of their skin, with the camera in his hand, Jeongguk angled it to take a picture of the bird's nest on the tree. Newborns chirping.
“I can’t feel my shoulders,” Yoongi grunted, adjusting Jeongguk on his shoulder making him yelp in surprise as he grabbed the nearest branch for support.
“That’s why I told you to take the picture in the first place, why didn’t you? Now, stop complaining.” Jeongguk glared down at Yoongi.
Yoongi couldn’t see it, but he just knew Jeongguk was glaring at him.
“Because you are scary when things don’t turn out the way you want them to.”
“Seriously, hyung. Stop talking. You are scaring them.”
Yoongi made an irritated sound in response, his clothes were clinging to his body with thick humid air; warm skin against the cool cotton. How he ended up here, like this, was a question he repeated to himself every minute.
The click click of Jeongguk’s camera going off was crystal clear in the quiet, dead, afternoon. Yoongi prayed no one would walk past. They especially chose this time of the day because the days have gotten hotter, the air too balmy and chapped. No one was in the streets at this hour of the day, making it perfect for Jeongguk to sneak up on the tree and capture photos of the bird's nest he found there.
Meanwhile, Yoongi hung on for dear life.
It’s not like Jeongguk was heavy, it was just that Yoongi was not a gym guy, not like Jeongguk anyway, the younger was a gym freak, he liked working out too much. He said he liked the way his body ached later, Yoongi was left horrified after hearing those words.
Maybe, instead of making fun of Jeongguk, he should’ve joined him. Maybe then his muscles wouldn’t have felt like giving out now, his body cried in pain.
And Jeongguk would not stop clicking pictures, would not stop trying to take the best one.
That was the thing about him, he was too perfect, a true perfectionist, he believed in perfection only the divine could have, the kind of perfection that was unattainable, yet it did not stop him from working himself to the edge of death to achieve that.
Looked like he was going to take Yoongi with him.
Though, it wouldn’t be the first time that happened.
Ever since Jeongguk had taken to photography, he became a little reckless, a little careless. He became too daring with nature, in nature, it scared the living shit out of Yoongi.
Yoongi didn’t have enough hands to count the times he had to accompany Jeongguk just to make sure that he didn’t die on his little adventures.
Yet, Yoongi wouldn’t have it any other way.
Because, Jeongguk was Jeongguk.
He was the most beautiful, the most irreplaceable part of Yoongi’s life, he slipped like magic into Yoongi’s every waking moment and like a dream into every sleeping one.
It was good. Or as good as it could get.
Until
Yoongi felt something on his leg.
His stomach dropped, eyes widened at the weird sensation on his leg, dread settling in, he tried not to move, as he peeked down to look for the source of the intruding feeling and there it was, an insect, crawling up his ankle.
Yoongi cursed under his breath, he was not scared of insects, but it did not mean they didn't creep him out, especially if they were anywhere near him.
and right now, one was making its way up to his leg.
He jerked his leg, as subtle as he could, trying to shrug the insect off, but the movement, barely any forceful, did nothing to stop it.
Yoongi tried one more time, this time with more strength to shake the insect off of his leg.
“Hyung…” Jeongguk began, alarmed, “Stop moving, I am going to fall.”
“Hyung is trying, Jeongguk-ah” Yoongi said through gritted teeth.
He breathed through his mouth, once, twice, focusing on calming his nerves down. He clenched his jaw, shifting his weight from one foot to another, his grip unconsciously tightening around Jeongguk’s thigh, fingers digging into his skin, he tried to move again.
The panic finally kicked in as the insect crawled up on Yoongi’s leg, above his calf, he didn’t hesitate to kick his leg in the air this time, violently, wobbling on the other one.
“Hyung, wha—”
The crash hurt more than Yoongi would’ve imagined. Steps slipping, the balance lost, he fell on the ground on his back, the air was punched right out of his chest as Jeongguk landed on top of him, weighing more than rocks, he collided with his body, crushing Yoongi against the ground, both of their limbs entangled.
“Oh my god.”
Jeongguk was the first to recover from the fall as he looked down at Yoongi in horror.
“Hyung, are you okay?”
Yoongi couldn’t reply, just settled with a groan. Instead, laying flat on the dirty ground, he did not even want to imagine the filth that was getting everywhere on his clothes. The pain in the back of his head made him immune to everything for now.
“Your camera,” Yoongi wheezed, hand clutching his t-shirt. “Is it okay? Not broken, right?”
Jeongguk sat up, still on top of him and Yoongi saw the camera secured in between his arms, protected between their bodies when they fell and he let out a sigh, relieved, somewhat pained.
Yoongi pulled himself up in a sitting position, coughing once or twice, the pressure in his chest, dull, but still there, the air feeling rigid as he took a few deep breaths.
“Let me check your head.”
Yoongi grabbed Jeongguk’s wrist before it could reach his head.
“I am fine.” He let out, a bit strained, but okay.
Jeongguk did not believe him a single bit, the shadow of doubt crossing his face as he observed Yoongi, eyebrows pinched, staring at Yoongi disapprovingly.
It took Yoongi a moment to realize their position, how close they were, their bodies touching in places that made his ears burn.
The moles on Jeongguk’s skin, Yoongi could count them with his eyes closed, eyelashes spread, winged like a butterfly, fluttering against the rosy petals on his cheeks as he blatantly ogled at Yoongi, worried, apologetic.
His wrist, boney, delicate, cuffed between Yoongi’s long, calloused fingers.
Yoongi coughed, letting it go.
Jeongguk frowned.
“Are you sure you are okay? I think we should get you to the hospital.”
“No need.”
Jeongguk’s thighs around Yoongi’s frame held him hostage below him and didn't let him budge when he made a move to get up.
Exhausted, Yoongi looked at Jeongguk, eyes squinting under the sun, body beaten, as if it had met death and returned. And, He fell back on the ground, uncautious now, his arms spread wide as he stared at the clear sky.
That made Jeongguk shift too, sliding down from Yoongi’s body and sinking on the ground beside him, he mimicked his pose and laid down, head coming to rest on Yoongi’s bicep, cushioning it to make a perfect pillow under his head.
“I am sorry,” Jeongguk muttered.
It was too hot to be pleasant, their bodies were sticky with sweat and dirt, pressed up against each other, the ground scorched under their clothes and they were going to get sunburnt if they didn’t move sooner, but, at that moment, it did not seem that bad.
“It’s okay,” Yoongi assured Jeongguk, turning his head to the side to look at him, “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
Jeongguk hummed in reponse.
“Did you get a good picture?” Yoongi asked.
“Yeah, but—”
“If you say you don’t like it, I am going to punch you.”
That pulled a laugh out of Jeongguk, it spilled onto the ground like magic dust, and he shook his head, grinning.
“Hyung worked so hard to help you get those pictures, cut him some slack.”
“I know. Thank you, world’s best hyung ever.”
“I don’t think your brother would be happy to know you said that.”
Jeongguk titled his head, lazy eyes shining with mirth and mischief, snatching a breath away from Yoongi.
“Who said he has to know?”
“Fair enough.”
They lay there in silence. Under the scorching sun, sweating, and dirty, their clothes were probably going to smell.
“Ah, this feels so nice.” Jeongguk yawned, stretching his body, “Maybe next time, I will click some pictures of the riverside. So many pink flowers have bloomed there, they cover the entire meadow.”
yoongi hummed. “yeah?”
“Yeah, and they look really pretty. You know what the color pink indicates?” Jeongguk’s question took Yoongi off guard.
He furrowed his eyebrows, rummaging through his mind, wondering if that little piece of information was ever shared by Jeongguk before. He didn’t find any.
So, he blurted the first thing that came to his mind.
“Love?”
Jeongguk looked taken aback by his answer, it made Yoongi embarrassed for some reason, he didn’t know where that came from.
“Love? where’d you get that from?”
Yoongi gulped, quickly turning away, he felt his face twitch, felt it do something weird that he was scared Jeongguk would see.
“Nothing; just, a thought.”
Jeongguk looked at him funny, was Yoongi right, did Jeongguk see something weird on his face, god, he wished he had died from the fall. Yoongi squirmed in discomfort, suddenly, so awkward and he could feel Jeongguk quietly laughing at him.
He turned to glare at him, “What?” He snapped.
Jeongguk shook his head and began to laugh as he said, “love has no color, hyung.”
A shade of blue.
The static noise of the commenters sounded like the buzzing of bees, a rerun of an old basketball show Yoongi was only paying half attention to run in the background, his focus pinned on the small wooden box he was holding.
Blue painted the tips of his fingers, his clothes adorned with the blue droplets like stars in the sky, Yoongi held the box carefully, close to his face, filling the gaps and corners, the paintbrush gliding smoothly over the surface.
The jewelry box was not too big, nothing too grande, it was simple, beautiful in a subtle way. Yoongi bought it for Jeongguk who had been complaining about losing his rings and earrings a lot. Ever since he got piercings, his jewelry collection only increased and didn’t show any sign of stopping anytime soon.
Now, Jeongguk adorned himself with pretty earrings, always more than a few rings on his fingers, a bracelet around his delicate wrists, clinking against everything he touched, leaving his imprint behind, a ghost of a memory, the cool silver pendant in his neck, right above his heart, counting his beats.
Yoongi bought a jewelry box for Jeongguk to keep all of his, deciding to paint it before giving it to him. He could leave it plain, simple, all wooden, but he was at an art supplies store to buy some stuff Jeongguk asked him for his project, and there, at that moment, that shade of blue had looked so enticing, it seemed to be calling for Yoongi.
And he got it without much thought of how he would use it, he decided, later, that day, when he got home and the jewelry box was on his desk, still, waiting to belong to his rightful owner.
The leading team scored another goal and cheers flooded Yoongi’s room, a whirlwind of noises thrumming against the wall, followed by the dull voice of commentators' continuous talking.
It was only Yoongi today, tonight. The absence of a person too prominent, Yoongi was not used to it being on his own a lot, not after meeting Jeongguk, who became a constant presence in his life.
Yoongi had almost forgotten how lonely it would get without Jeongguk around.
Jeongguk had gone out for dinner with his college friends. Yoongi would rather die than stop him from enjoying himself, he knew how hard it was for Jeongguk to open up, to make friends, he was happy he found people who seemed to bring him joy and comfort.
Yoongi paused to straighten his posture, feeling an upcoming strain in his neck, he put down the jewelry box cautiously on the floor, protecting the freshly painted side from touching the newspaper laid out. the paint splashed everywhere, tiny blue dots covering his things.
His knees made an unsettling crack sound as he pulled himself up on his feet, stepping around the mess he had made on the floor, discarded newspaper, paint brushes, and paint.
The drifting sound of the vehicles accompanied him, blending with the buzzing, he bent down to his laptop to close the window of the match rerun, night already settling in.
Yoongi checked the time, it was half past ten, he wondered if Jeongguk was still with his friends; hoped he wouldn’t drink too much to not be able to get home safely. For a moment, he wondered, if he should ask the younger about his whereabouts and if he needed a ride home or company to take over the drain he felt after socializing for long.
Controlling his instincts and the nagging voice inside his head, Yoongi decided to call it a night. There was very little left to be painted, he figured he could do it first thing in the morning if he was lucky enough to wake up early as he retrieved his pajamas from his closet.
Half an hour later,
Yoongi was all tucked in his bed when the door to his bedroom opened. Yoongi thought it was his mom who came to check up on him, to scold him for keeping the lights on for too long.
He was surprised to see, it was Jeongguk.
It was late, just a touch away from midnight, the streets had gone vacant hours ago, left barren, Jeongguk opened the door to Yoongi’s bedroom looking like an illusion, standing at the threshold, the darkness of the hallway draped over his shadow.
“Jeongguk?” Yoongi closed his laptop, sitting up on the bed.
Jeongguk did not say anything, did not greet or announce his arrival like he usually did, he stayed there haunting the door like a ghost, deliberating to step in or to turn around, the pale light from the night lamp showing the frown on his face deepening.
Yoongi did not get scared, he concealed his fears and worries well, solely because of Jeongguk, he didn’t want to alarm the younger. He had mastered the art of patience and calm for Jeongguk.
That’s why, his voice did not waver as he said, “Is everything okay?”
Yoongi made a move to get up from the bed, tugging off the comforter, which seemed to break Jeongguk out of his trance, and finally, he stepped inside, the black, puffer jacket rubbing against the doorframe as he closed it with his body and stood there, leaning against the closed door, looking at Yoongi, wordlessly.
“Hey,” Yoongi tried again, calling out for him gently, standing up from the bed, “You can tell hyung anything.”
It seemed to hit a spot, seemed to hit Jeongguk harder than Yoongi intended, and Jeongguk looked at him torn apart between the choices he battled inside his mind. He looked at Yoongi, shaken.
“Jeongguk?”
Yoongi took the first step toward Jeongguk.
“I kissed a boy.”
Yoongi paused,
His legs froze before he could take the second step, the ground beneath him shaking, just like Jeongguk’s voice, as he whispered again.
“I kissed a boy, hyung.”
and I am afraid of what it could mean.
Yoongi heard the meaning behind Jeongguk’s words, the one he was afraid to say out loud; the reality behind his words that he did not want to face, not alone, is that why he came to Yoongi? Yoongi was good at fighting his battles for him, Yoongi had won every single war for him.
Same. Yoongi wanted to say, recklessly, thoughtlessly, I am afraid of what it could mean too. For you. For me. For us.
“It’s okay.” He let out, too calm for the storm that had unleashed inside his mind. “It’s okay, Jeongguk.”
“Is it?” Jeongguk asked, desperate eyes searching for reassurance on Yoongi’s face and he took a step towards him, a child scared of the darkness that had spread over the night.
“I kissed a boy, hyung.” He said again, emphasizing, repeating, as if Yoongi would ever lie to him.
“Did you like it?’ Yoongi sucked in a breath, shaky, the moment too fragile, it weighed over Yoongi’s chest, making it hard for him to breathe.
“What?” Jeongguk breathed in, sharply, steps becoming hesitant on their way to Yoongi.
“Did you like it?” Yoongi repeated, nodding at Jeongguk, encouraging him to keep walking; because for the first time in his life, he was too scared to go to Jeongguk, too scared of how far he would have to go, the distance daunting.
“I—” Jeongguk struggled, the pale moonlight hitting his face, making out a portrait of despair, otherworldly, torn, “I did.”
“Then, it’s okay, Jeongguk-ah. Everything’s okay. Thank you for telling me.”
Yoongi pressed a smile to his lips, tight, too painful with the force he had to apply to stretch his lips, to make them appear genuine, happy.
Jeongguk collapsed in his arms as soon he reached Yoongi, ripping every ounce of the burden he had to carry with him home off of his shoulder, burying it between Yoongi’s bones, because Yoongi kept everything safe.
“I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t know what to do.” Jeongguk confessed, hiding his face in the warm curve of Yoongi’s neck.
The weight Jeongguk had just laid down was heavy, the burden he passed on to Yoongi was suffocating. For a moment, Yoongi feared the ground beneath him was going to sink; swallow him whole.
He raised a hand, moving his body accordingly because he knew the places jeongguk liked to be touched when he needed comfort, the places he needed to hide. he raised a hand and placed it on Jeongguk’s head, stroking his hair, and felt him relax under his touch, instantly, as he wrapped an arm around his body to keep him close. Jeongguk liked long hugs and their warmth.
“It’s okay. You still have time to figure it all out.” He whispered, hand continuing to stroke Jeongguk’s hair.
His fingertips tingled as he stared at the newspaper still laid out on the floor, bathed in blue, the dirty brushes with dried paint, the half-painted jewelry box, an incomplete shade of blue, it stared at Yoongi, filled Yoongi’s vision until everything he looked became blue, everything he touched became something incomplete.
“You did so well.” He whispered into Jeongguk’s hair, closing his eyes, and letting the black take over.
Jeongguk pulled away, doe eyes staring at Yoongi glossy with unshed tears, “Can I stay here tonight? I don’t want to go home.”
Untangling himself from Jeongguk, Yoongi stepped back, “Of course. I’ll fetch you a change of clothes.”
“Yes, please.”
The wind howled against the opened window, trapping against the feeble glass, the silence broken by Yoongi’s footsteps moving around the room, the sound of a closet being opened and closed, Jeongguk’s breathing; feigned into a calm, terribly in sync with Yoongi’s own.
Spaces that were left empty before were now filled with Jeongguk, everything taking a form resembling him, as he removed his jacket, hanging it on the desk chair, and bracelet placed on the table, he rubbed his wrist after removing it.
“Okay, all set. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Yoongi stepped out of the bathroom and abruptly stopped in his steps upon noticing Jeongguk holding the jewelry box in his hands, inspecting it with curiosity, paint catching his fingers, not completely dried yet.
“What is this?” Jeongguk asked, observing the box.
Yoongi’s throat seized, eyes fixated on the paint that touched Jeongguk’s skin, he gulped, uncertain, nervous.
“I got it for you.” He said.
Jeongguk raised an eyebrow at Yoongi, “a jewelry box?” He confirmed.
“You keep losing your rings.” Was all Yoongi said; feeling strangely bare revealing that little piece of information.
Jeongguk opened the box, peeking inside, running his fingers over the soft material to keep the ornaments safe from tarnishing.
“It’s really pretty.” He said in awe, sparing a little second to give Yoongi a gentle smile, before going back to the wooden box and its edges, the naked wood at one side.
“I still have to finish painting it, before you can have it,” Yoongi explained.
Jeongguk nodded in understanding, gently, placing the box back in its place.
“Why blue though?” He looked at Yoongi.
Yoongi could picture it, the mirth in Jeongguk eyes, the innocent giggles he would let out if Yoongi confessed, it reminded me of you, it reminded me of love.
Jeongguk would laugh like that, like he once had, not meaning to hurt Yoongi, and he would repeat the same words, but love has no color, hyung.
And at that moment, the words felt true. Maybe, Jeongguk was right, maybe, love really did not have any color.
Right, now Yoongi could not see any beauty in that blue, now, that blue seemed hideous, the ugliest shade of color. it felt cold, so cold that it left shivers down Yoongi’s body. It felt like drowning, Yoongi had been drowning from the moment Jeongguk walked inside his room.
Blue was the hottest part of the flame, maybe, that's why Yoongi felt as if he was burning as if he was set aflame.
Jeongguk stood there, waiting, too pure for how cruel his question had been, watching Yoongi with lazy eyes slowly filling with the daze the night had embarked.
“Nothing; just, It caught my eyes.”
“It’s pretty,” Jeongguk said, once again, glancing at the jewelry box.
“Okay. It’s getting late.” Yoongi did not want to talk about it anymore, wanted to pretend nothing had happened, nothing bad, not yet, “Go change. Take a shower if you want to.”
Yoongi watched Jeongguk make his way toward the bathroom and let out a breath he had been holding just as the door closed. His heart squeezed with an unknown pain that he didn’t even notice overtaking.
He dusted his bed, fixed the sheets, smoothing out the wrinkles, fidgety hands skimming over everything and nothing to keep busy, before he got into bed. Minutes passed by in Yoongi laying still, sleep seemed too far, too foreign, it did seem to want to meet him tonight.
Jeongguk stepped outside the bathroom, clean, freshened up, his face round and red, showing his real age, the youth he had so much left off, the laughter he carried in the lines of his face, the innocence gathered stored in his chubby cheeks.
Yoongi laid flat on his bed, there was no point in pretending to be asleep as Jeongguk knew him better than he let on.
Jeongguk's steps were small, languid, reaching for the bed, he picked up the comforter, not completely off of Yoongi, just enough to slip underneath it, his body already drawn towards Yoongi, chasing the warmth. Jeongguk threw a leg over Yoongi’s, keeping him caged as he pressed himself into him, nuzzling against his shirt.
“Thank you,” he murmured, “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re always welcome, Jeongguk,” Yoongi replied.
“Thank you for that too. Truly the best hyung ever.” Jeongguk's voice slurred, words mumbled into his shoulder, the telltale of sleep overpowering him.
His breathing slowly became even, hushed, body going lax against Yoongi, who stayed still, feeling like a stranger in his own skin, unfamiliar with everything that once was his. Jeongguk did not like when people stirred in their sleep disturbing him too, so that’s why Yoongi stayed still, terrifying still as he ached in silence and bled in blue.
Tender flaws.
Falling in love is not a choice, it had never been one for Yoongi.
Falling in love with Jeongguk was not a choice, but staying in that love was.
Yoongi stayed in love with Jeongguk, a place where time did not exist, where years could pass by within a blink or a day equaled eternity. Inheriting the tragedy that came with it all too proudly, he stayed in love with Jeongguk even when Jeongguk was not there, not present, in that place, Yoongi lived, alone.
Every moment had built up to this one, every step he took, with Jeongguk, toward Jeongguk, led him to a place where he found a name for all of his feelings.
Yoongi stayed in love with Jeongguk and he didn’t have any intention to leave any time.
“You sure, you don’t want to get in the water?” Jeongguk yelled from a distance.
The water covered half of his body, the sun too harsh above them, skin glistening with water droplets like pearls sewn to it. Yoongi shook his head in response, patting the blanket he was sitting on top of on the meadows, under the shade, away from the sun.
Jeongguk shrugged, going back to play in the water, the purple of his hair now faded into a fleeting lilac, roots turning black, somehow, he made it work, he made it look just as beautiful as ever. He moved so gracefully, carrying a subtle elegance in every action, Yoongi watched him swim in the water, trying to catch the tiny fishes with his bare hands, body shaking in laughter.
The happiness on his face was so raw it broke Yoongi a little.
Yoongi believed love did not have any color, but if it did, it would be the color of Jeongguk’s skin, the golden glow, lighting up everything he came in contact with. It would be the color of his fingertips, a shy pink, fragile with its touch.
Love did not have a color, but if it did, it would be the same as the color of Jeongguk’s soul.
He colored people’s lives with love.
Jeongguk was love.
The quiet atmosphere and pleasant heat were swaying Yoongi to sleep. He laid down on the blanket and closed his eyes, hands folded under his head. The sweet tune of the river flowing was a perfect lullaby, Yoongi was just about to fall asleep.
And then, he was in the air,
And moving.
“What the fuck! Jeon Jeongguk!”
He thrashed in Jeongguk’s hold, kicking and hitting Jeongguk wherever he could reach, and Jeongguk, unfazed by the hits, finding the scuffle of the elder hilarious, laughed as he carried Yoongi towards the river.
“Let me go.” Yoongi cursed.
“If you say so.”
Jeongguk let go, dropping Yoongi on the shallow end of the water, enough to drench him in one go, not enough to cause any harm and he laughed as water filled Yoongi’s senses, making it hard for him to balance himself and stand up.
Yoongi stuttered on his feet, wet clothes sticking to his body like a second skin, hair drenched falling over his forehead flatly and he gave Jeongguk a death glare, a scowl on his face.
“Looks pretty, hyung.” Jeongguk teased the grin on his face, permanent.
“You! Come here!”
Yoongi snarled, reaching for Jeongguk’s shirt collar, the wet fabric slippery in his hold, it stretched, revealing the first hint of ink spread over Jeongguk’s collarbone, curved like a wine, glorious embellishing on his skin.
Yoongi faltered.
“Oh hyung! My strong hyung! Please, don’t beat me up.”
Jeongguk slipped through his hold like sand, his tone more teasing and harmless than mocking. The water thrummed against their knees, cool, it brought Yoongi back to his senses.
“Shut up,” Yoongi grumbled, pushing wet hair out of his face.
“Oh!” Jeonggk said, taking a step closer to Yoongi who stilled himself, prepared for another attack.
Instead, Jeongguk raised a hand, too close to Yoongi’s face, and plucked a stray eyelash from his cheek. Yoongi watched in confusion as Jeongguk took his hand and placed the lone string of eyelash on it.
“Make a wish, hyung.” He said.
Still, confused, Yoongi remained unmoving, hand beginning to tingle from where Jeongguk was holding it between his. Jeongguk rolled his eyes, placing a hand on Yoongi’s eyes to force them close.
“Make a wish and then blow it.” He instructed, once again.
This time. Yoongi did as he was told. He closed his eyes, made a wish, small, but worth more than a billion, and then blew air out of his mouth, to his hand.
He opened his eyes, and was startled, finding Jeongguk still staring at him, the depth of the ocean in his eyes, he looked down at his hand and the eyelash was gone.
“What did you wish for?” Jeongguk whispered.
Yoongi licked his lips, retrieving his hand from jeongguk, took a step back from him and his too-easy-to-read eyes, his sly eyes that unraveled secrets like a present.
“I don’t think I am supposed to share that,” Yoongi said, words coming out too strained, gaze not meeting his.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” Jeongguk grabbed Yoongi’s shoulder, loose enough to be shrugged off, but Yoongi didn’t, letting him shake his shoulder, demandingly. “Tell me.”
“Fine. I wished to get rid of an annoying kid named Jeongguk” He rolled his eyes.
Jeongguk laughed, his head thrown back, the sun hitting his face just right, loose lilac curls caressing his cheeks. The crinkle around the eyes creased as the laughter stretched.
And just like that Yoongi’s wish came true.
“Liar,” Jeongguk said in between the peals of his laughter, “You couldn't have wished for that.”
“What makes you think that?” Yoongi challenged.
“You love me too much to get rid of me.” Jeongguk grinned, oblivious, so damn happy.
Yoongi forgot to breathe for a second. It was not easy to be the only one in love. It tends to get lonely. It was scary to conform to the fear of losing them. It was the loneliest feeling Yoongi have ever felt.
His heart clenched inside his chest, squeezing too painfully.
Jeongguk went back to the water, to the water that called for him too, he splashed it, reuniting with it as if meeting an old friend.
“Yeah, I do,” Yoongi whispered, hypnotized, lonely, stuck in a love, in a place without Jeongguk. “I love you.”
The breeze carried away his confession before it could ever reach the one it was meant for, getting lost somewhere in the depth of the rover and its lonely longing.
A light that never goes out
Yoongi tucked the white dress shirt in his slacks, the crisp ironed fabric scratching the delicate skin, with a palm sprawled over the front of the shirt he removed the last wrinkles, standing in front of the mirror as he observed his reflection, nerves twisting inside his empty stomach.
The morning sun was bleak, it did not let any light inside Yoongi's room which was bathed in late November fog blurring the corners. The cold was the only thing Yoongi could feel today.
He grabbed the black suit jacket laying on his bed and slipped it on.
Footsteps hurried around the floorboard downstairs, before they approached, and got closer.
Yoongi picked up his phone and the envelope, before his room door opened, “Son, are you ready?”
His mom poked her head inside the door.
“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded, “Let’s get going.”
They arrived earlier than others, earlier for other guests to start showing.
The neighborhood was a sea of black and gloom, people swarm around the streets, voices a numb sharp ringing inside his skull.
His parents were the first to move, to bow to the dead, and greet the family of the deceased, but Yoongi’s eyes kept searching for a familiar face in the sea of people, for the familiar figure in the mist escaping shivering lips that hid the words of consoles.
With a breath stuck inside his throat and fingers shaking inside the pocket of his slacks, Yoongi searched for a boy with a scar on his cheek and an overbite, searched for a boy, who after hearing the news of the death of his brother had been hiding from Yoongi, hiding from the world that didn’t have his brother.
And there Yoongi found him and there he stood, a stone in the place of a man, far away from the people and farther from his deceased brother, farthest from the entire world, in a completely different one.
Yoongi was careful with his steps, careful when he approached Jeongguk, and careful of the sounds and words, as he went to stand right beside Jeongguk like a mountain.
Jeongguk was staring at a far-off distance, at nothing or maybe everything, maybe he saw things differently after his brother, maybe he never quite imagined they would look like that, hideous, gloomy. Maybe Jeongguk never thought he would live in a world without his brother; that his life would just be a part of his life.
The storm inside Jeongguk shook Yoongi too.
He watched, waited, for Jeongguk to speak, anything, waited for him to move, to show any sign of life that he was left with, lonely.
It had been two days, two whole days since Yoongi last saw Jeongguk, forty-eight hours and in those forty-eight hours, Jeongguk had gone through things Yoongi could never imagine.
Yoongi realized a little late, that in those forty-eight hours, Jeongguk got lost somewhere; that the person he was standing beside was grief that had taken his place.
“Do you know what was the last thing we talked about? Hyung and I?” Jeongguk’s voice was an echo from the past, it lingered in the air around them.
With a shivering body, Yoongi tried to grasp the words, to hold onto them as he shook his head, “No. What was it?”
Jeongguk turned to look at Yoongi, eyes a black abyss, a glass encasing the emotions whirlwind inside them.
“His plans for the future.” He laughed, quietly, wet, a sound so joyless that it was almost painful.
“He wanted to do so much. He wanted to live so badly.” Tears came to his eyes, Jeongguk did not let a single one fall, too stubborn, too determined.
Yoongi stood there watching Jeongguk and he had never seen that person before, the Jeongguk standing in front of him was not Jeongguk but a grief-stricken man.
The two days that passed had done years of damage and had taken away the person Yoongi knew, the Jeongguk he last saw.
And trembling under that November cold, Yoongi realized, it was not just Jeongguk who had lost someone that day.
Soundless grief.
Something shifted after Jeongguk’s brother’s death.
A year had gone by, another November had come and in those twelve months, Yoongi saw Jeongguk die and be born anew. He saw him drastically and had lost him piece by piece, inch by inch, slowly, torturously, through each day, week, and month that passed.
Jeongguk had always been a quiet person and Yoongi knew it, he was used to it, used to sharing it with him but, after his brother’s death, Jeongguk’s silence began to feel like quiet mourning.
He talked less and his smiles left the home they resided in, around the corners of his eyes, the joy he used to carry in his pockets he dropped somewhere along the long road.
After that, Yoongi decided that he would do absolutely anything in his power to make Jeongguk happy, to make the glint of joy in his eyes shine again, he decided he would do anything for Jeongguk.
And that is why he did not say no to going to the bridge that night.
He was afraid, terrified of the height, but at that moment his fear was nothing compared to his love for Jeongguk, his love made him brave; his love made him stronger than his fears.
The road behind them was barren, save for the few cars that now and then passed by in the night as they sat there on the cliff of the bridge, legs swinging in the air, listening to the river run below them, the serene rustling of the water flowing beneath them.
It was long past midnight, and deep into the night, they were sitting on the bridge as the night air ruffled their hair and clothes. Yoongi’s car was parked only a few feet away, like a soul that got lost and ended up frozen in time, because that’s how it felt, as if time stopped on that bridge, frozen on the road, the sound of emptiness pouring over the concrete.
Yoongi did not dare look down, the cold water sounded threatening, violent the way it waved, ringing inside his ears, the night sky spread over above their head was vast, wide, almost covering the entire world.
Jeongguk looked like something otherworldly, a phantom haunting Yoongi’s thoughts, sitting beside him.
Long hair wild, untamed, dancing in the wind, wild locks of reminiscence, and Yoongi watched him, a little in awe, a little intimidated, memorizing every dip and curve of his face, every little piece of him.
Yoongi captured the moment inside his head, tucking it away in the box of his cherished memories. Yoongi loved memories more than moments. Because a moment when turned into a memory hurt less.
“What are you thinking about?” Jeongguk turned to look at Yoongi, drunk on the night, on the air.
“Nothing. Everything.” Yoongi shrugged, turning away his gaze in the distance, at the sky stretched over the blurred city.
Jeongguk huffed, shoving his hands inside the pocket of his jacket, which was too thin for the cold that surrounded him, “You don’t tell me anything nowadays.”
“Neither do you,” Yoongi replied, coolly.
“touché”
Nighttime was a tender time, Yoongi believed. It needed to be handled with care, to be cradled into the palm and held on to, it needed to be treated with fragility. And if you did, then, the night could reveal all the secrets the universe tried to hide, the imperfections it didn’t want people to see.
Jeongguk took out a pack of cigarettes, fingers shaking as he placed one between his lips.
“Want one?” He looked over to Yoongi, offering.
Yoongi shook his head in response and Jeongguk shrugged putting them away.
“Weren’t you—” The words died on Yoongi’s lips.
“I know,” Jeongguk sighed, exhaling, smoke escaping his lips, smoke or the cold mist, Yoongi couldn’t differentiate.
“It’s just hard, yknow?” Jeongguk mumbled.
Yoongi knew it was hard.
Yoongi knew Jeongguk had a hard time letting things go and on nights like these, he used to wish to be one of them.
Rubbing his palms together, Yoongi turned away from Jeongguk, not really a fan of the smell of the cigarette. He blew air between his hands, trying to generate a little heat.
“You cold?” Jeongguk asked, noticing the action.
“A little.”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier.”
Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows and parted his lips to say something, but before he could speak, Jeongguk scooted closer, making Yoongi’s breathe hitch because he was not supposed to move, not so high above the flowing river, but Jeongguk didn’t seem to mind the height so much as he wrapped an arm around Yoongi’s shoulder, pressing their bodies against each other.
“Worry not, I’ll keep you warm.” Jeongguk grinned at Yoongi, cigarette smoke still curling around his lips, a ghost of a touch on Yoongi’s skin where Jeongguk’s hand rested.
And at that moment, sitting on that cliff, Yoongi realized Jeongguk could ask him to jump and he wouldn’t dare think twice before leaping.
Because Yoongi was not afraid to jump, not afraid to die if Jeongguk was the last person he would’ve said goodbye to, the last person he held.
He was not afraid to die if he was promised Jeongguk in the afterlife.
“It’s nice isn’t it?”Jeongguk mused looking around, “Makes you want to stay here forever.”
“Yeah.” Yoongi breathed out, he too wanted to stay here forever, just for a different reason.
“Too bad. Forever doesn’t exist.” It was sad, the way Jeongguk said it.
Maybe, it was supposed to be a bad thing, that forever didn’t exist, Yoongi couldn't understand why and he didn’t quite really care. He didn’t care if it was a second he had or forever, as long as he spent it all with Jeongguk, he was satisfied.
Graveyard of wishes.
It was the first snowfall of the season, which meant long dreary nights were on their way, maybe tonight could be one.
The windows of Yoongi’s room shuddered, holding up against the ruthless cold. He was drooped over his work desk, a cup of warm tea was sitting by his side, the fumes swaying in the air.
Yoongi pushed his glasses up on his nose, fingers working on the keyboard of his laptop in haste and eyes analyzing the endless data being typed.
The evening was quiet, his mother’s slow singing could be heard from downstairs, her favorite melody painting the entire household as she moved around the kitchen basked in the smell of fresh broth, the spluttering of meat against oil that made Yoongi’s stomach growl.
It was time for dinner, soon, he had to just finish this one thing before he could allow himself to enjoy it.
He was lost in his work, the numbers on his screen made him dizzy, and captured all of his focus that he didn’t even notice when his bedroom door opened, a figure hovering by the doorway, lingering there for a second or more, before someone stepped inside, closing the door behind them quietly.
It was Jeongguk.
It was Jeongguk who never knocked before entering Yoongi’s room, through all these years, he had never gotten into a habit of knocking, just barging inside Yoongi’s room to announce his arrival, knowing well that this place could never turn him away.
It was Jeongguk and the cologne he recently started wearing again. The one gifted by his brother last year on his birthday, never imagined that would be the last birthday Jeongguk would spend with him.
He did not say anything, catching Yoongi working and went to sit on the bed, not making any noise, not wanting to disturb the elder and he got comfortable on the bed behind him. He leaned over Yoongi’s shoulder, to watch him work and Yoongi spared a second to glance at Jeongguk and give him a little smile.
Jeongguk sat there for a while, speaking nothing, just existing beside Yoongi, occupying all the empty spaces Yoongi had left for him, in his room, on his bed, in his world he had carved a shape the size of Jeongguk for him to come and stay.
And it’s not like it was the first time they shared their silence and time that seemed almost motionless. Often, after long, tiring days, they spent their evenings hauled up in either of their bedrooms just trying to breathe in through the exhaustion of the day.
Yoongi did not mind it; did not mind anything about Jeon Jeonguk.
They sat there in silence for a while, just Yoong’s furious typing and his little curses accompanying them.
After a while, after he had taken all of his time, Jeongguk finally spoke up.
“I want to leave.”
Yoongi’s instinct had been to whirl around in his chair and ask, to where? Where do you want to go? Hyung will take you.
But something about the way Jeongguk said it had Yoongi pause his typing and bear the harsh thud against his chest, as if someone punched him, the way Jeongguk said those words had Yoongi’s world come to a sudden halt.
Yoongi turned away from his laptop, twirled his chair around to look at Jeongguk, and despite everything that came to his mind, the first word to leave his mouth was,
“Why?”
Jeongguk shrugged, his body now a permanent slump, shrinking in and into his bones. He rested his palm on either side, of the bed, holding himself upright.
“Just. I feel like I should.”
“Leave?” Yoongi’s voice croaked, the word coming out a little broken.
“Yeah.”
Jeongguk looked around Yoongi’s room, his eyes skimming over everything that was his, the colors that belonged to him on those four walls as if he was trying to memorize it as if he too like Yoongi was capturing the moment into a memory. He looked around the room with woeful eyes and behind those eyes, Yoongi could see the time untangle itself from the knots it got stuck between, could see the time reverse and the blush of spring on an evening sky and jeongguk’s cheeks.
and Yoongi hated it.
Yoongi hated that his instinct had been to beg. If there was any god he believed in, he needed him the most now.
“But where will you go? I mean, so suddenly?”
Jeongguk smiled as if he knew what Yoongi was trying to say but couldn’t, as if he knew the desperation behind his words meant something else entirely. Jeongguk smiled at Yoongi as if he knew and Yoongi hated that despite all of it, he never said anything, never let on anything.
“It’s not sudden,” Jeongguk confessed, the smile on his lips, quivering, “I have been thinking about it for some time now and I have made plans about what I am going to do. But, for that, I have to leave. I need to leave this place, Hyung.”
The confession, the revelation, it was heavy, it pressed onto Yoongi’s body, trying to bury him alive six feet deep into the ground.
Yoongi sat frozen in his chair, the blood in his veins running cold, body going numb. All he could hear was I am sorry, I need to leave you, Hyung. This place has you and I need to leave you here with it.
Yoongi licked his lips, his tongue dry, struggling to form words he tried so hard to make sound normal, and convincing. At that moment, the ground beneath could open and swallow him whole, the world could crash and burn and Yoongi wouldn’t blink.
“Okay.” He said, “If that is what you want if that is what you think is best for you, then I am not going to stop you. You can leave this place—”
Yoongi looked at Jeongguk
But, please leave your heart here. Please take mine, instead. That’s all I want; a simple transaction of love; for love.
So that if a hand was ever to touch you, it would feel me beating within you and it would know that that’s what you do, that’s what you have always done; you have always collected hearts, and they sit right beside yours inside your ribcage, means something less than your own. It would know that you will not stay like you never had.
Please, take my heart with you and leave yours behind for me.
So that even if you were miles away I would still feel you beneath me. If I missed you I would have to just look inside my chest, if I ever needed to see you, you would be just a heartbeat away.
“But, I am also really scared, hyung. I am scared of the change and— and what if it does not work out?” Jeongguk’s voice brought Yoongi out of the maze of his thoughts.
Yoongi got up from his chair and Jeongguk looked at him, open and expecting, hands already reaching out to grab his sweater Yoongi gravitated towards him, stood in between Jeongguk’s spread legs, and wrapped his arms around him, a hand gently stroking his hair just like how Jeongguk liked it, soothing, comforting.
“But, what if it does?” He said, hopeful, for Jeongguk.
Yoongi collected every doubtful and anxious piece of Jeongguk and crushed them until they turned into dust, turned into hope. Yoongi stood like a shield, like an anchor Jeongguk could always lean on as he assured Jeongguk; wiped his tears, murmuring that it will work out. that everything is going to be okay, Yoongi will make sure of it, and Yoongi will make sure it does not hurt Jeongguk when he leaves.
Because that’s what you do when you love someone.
When you love someone, you always find a way; because Yoongi had always found a way for Jeongguk; even if it meant having that way go through his chest like a bullet; stomping all over his heart.
Remnants.
The time when measured in weight was the heaviest, the time that has passed, those days, and months you carried on your back, years worth of moments now nothing more than a memory. If time could be measured it would be measured in mountains, sturdy, hard, something that has held out for so long against the ravages of time.
Maybe that’s why the weight of the photo album on Yoongi’s lap felt heavy, wearying because it was not just an album that he held but also time , he held all the past years right beneath the lines of his palm, a lifetime resting on him, clinging to him and it filled his senses with deep melancholia with every turn of the page, with every memory revisited.
Yoongi’s fingertips traced a photo clicked by Jeongguk, blurred around the edges as he was in Yoongi’s memory, blurred, almost as if he was erasing himself out of his mind, but he could never leave his memories, he never left his heart.
The photograph was old, Yoongi was young in the picture, eighteen years old, but the funny thing was that Yoongi did not remember ever being young. From the moment he met Jeongguk, he turned old, hyung, he lived years ahead of Jeongguk, the time dragging him forward and he remembered waiting for Jeongguk to get where he was, only to be pulled again, pulled apart.
Yoongi lived faster than Jeongguk, forward, time creating a distance of years between them that could never be overcome, could never be closed. Sometimes, Yoongi wondered if it was their fate from the beginning; distance, wondered if they were supposed to exist with a space between them, two parallel lines that moved together but in distance, but they were never allowed to meet.
Lately, Yoongi has been listening to sad songs a lot.
“Hyung? You there?”
Jeongguk’s voice drizzled through the phone speaker bringing Yoongi back from the lane of memories he had fallen into, a path he often found himself taking.
“Yeah, yeah, of course. You were saying?” His voice came out hoarse, a lump that was stuck in his throat ever since he first answered the phone, making it hard for him to speak.
“Uh uh, I don’t think you are listening. I’ve been talking for the last ten minutes, I figured you zoned out when I started singing crayon shin-chan's song and you didn’t react at all” Jeongguk giggled, the sound so alive, it tickled Yoongi’s ears.
Yoongi chuckled, a little wetly, a little forced, “Sorry, hyung had a long day today, Jeongguk.”
“Same.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s nothing unusual,” the sound of beeping echoed in between Jeongguk’s words.
Jeongguk, who was not afraid of the microwave anymore; who had overcome every little of his fears to remove the hindrance they caused him, grew out of all the places he used to hide in.
Jeongguk bloomed like a rose in a city of dead flowers.
The city he left this place for.
Yoongi was there with him, for him. He witnessed everything, saw Jeongguk pluck out throne from his skin every time he got hurt, listened to Jeongguk whine and complain about the new area, new place, was there for him on nights he called sobbing into his pillow because home is a place he did not want to be at, because it had too many open wounds.
He watched Jeongguk grow up again, in an entirely different way. By the sidelines, he stayed with hands tucked inside the pockets to seize them from moving, from reaching out as he watched Jeongguk grow up and grow apart, throw out his weakness, shedding his skin like a snake to become the kind of a person he believed his brother would be proud of and throughout all of this, Yoongi kept his distance.
Because Jeongguk liked to be chased but never liked to be caught. Because Yoongi always knew better than to run after him.
Because on nights like these, nights close to the morning, Jeongguk used to call him drunk on the heaviness, telling him about his days and the things he did and did not, the people he met, the people he hated the instance he met and the guy he spent his weekend with, hence he didn’t call yesterday—
and Yoongi used to swallow down the words along with the bile that crept to his throat at the very mention of some guy Jeongguk had been going out with.
“It’s nothing serious.” He would say.
But it would set Yoongi’s entire world on fire all the same.
Just like tonight, like now, as Jeongguk continued to rant about some guy he was going to a club with tomorrow, Yoongi could swear there was smoke filling up somewhere and could smell something burning inside his chest. The space where his heart used to be was just a hole now, filled with ashes.
“Hyung?” Jeongguk stopped midway, confused, “Why aren’t you saying something?”
Yoongi blinked, rapidly, trying to clear his blurred vision, the photo album on his lap clutched tightly into his fists as if he was trying to hold onto the time when it felt right.
Yoongi did not know what to say or if he was being more honest, he did not know how to say it.
He did not know how to say, I know you like to run away. But, I also know that even though you would never admit it, you always want a place to run back to.
He did not know how to say, what I mean is can this place be the one you run back to?
He did not know how to say, my apartment passcode is still the same as since you last visited, two years ago. There’s a black towel in my wardrobe because I know you like black over white. And I started stoking up your favorite snacks when you were here and have not stopped since.
He did not know how to say, you are allowed to run away but, please don’t go too far. Stop before you reach a point from where you cannot run back.
He did not know how to say, Please come back to me, Jeongguk. You are me more than I had ever been. I exist because you do. Please don’t separate me from myself. Please, don’t erase my existence.
Yoongi cleared his throat, “Nothing; just, I missed your voice.”
Jeongguk chuckled, light-hearted, so oblivious to the heart-wrenching longing Yoongi was drowning in.
“So corny. Tell me, how was your day, what are you doing?”
Yoongi looked down at the photo album, the photo he had been staring at, the page he couldn’t turn.
“Working, I am—was working. My day was fine, just the usual. Work has been hectic.”
“Wow, would you look at that,” Jeongguk mused, “I spent half of the time complaining about my work, and the first thing you talk about as soon as you get the chance is, guess? work."
He laughed as if it was something very amusing to him, “seriously, hyung, what have we become?”
Yoongi stilled at Jeongguk’s words.
The question asked in nonchalance, harmlessly, it snatched the breath out of Yoongi.
He looked around his room, so different from the one back home, not quite his, more of Jeongguk’s pieces than his, were scattered everywhere, the polaroids and old tapes in a shoe box inside Yoongi’s closet, the marbles Jeongguk collected because hyung, look how pretty it looks under the sun, the album of every single photo Jeongguk ever clicked still cherished by him.
They used to be friends, but now they were just strangers with memories, strangers who did not know what to talk about anymore, who were running out of words to share.
The distance in between was so tangible, it bled.
“A tool of capitalism.” Yoongi sighed in relief hearing Jeongguk's laughter getting louder.
Another beep sound echoed, going off for a second longer before it was turned off. Yoongi heard shuffling from the other side, Jeongguk’s quiet breathing tickling his senses before he spoke up.
“Finally, it’s time for me to eat,” Jeongguk said.
Yoongi hummed, “Yeah, okay. eat well.”
“You know, I will. Alright, I’ll see you later, hyung.”
I have not seen you in two years, Yoongi did not point out, How late is later, is it an hour away? or Tomorrow? Or is it, I’ll see you later just not in this lifetime.
Because a lifetime is a long time.
Let’s see each other before a goodbye becomes inevitable.
Let’s meet before this lifetime turns into a life sentence.
Jeongguk disconnected the phone call and in the silence of his apartment, to the darkness of his room, Yoongi whispered, more like a prayer, an unheard plea.
“Yeah. See you later, Jeongguk.”