Work Text:
The Zeigarnik effect is a psychological phenomenon describing a tendency to remember interrupted or incomplete tasks or events more easily than tasks that have been completed.
The number of hours we have together is actually not so large.
Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving.
Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.
Mikko Harvey.
'Cause in my head
In my head, I do everything right
When you call, I'll forgive and not fight
All the moments I play in the dark
Wild and fluorescent
Come home to my heart, uh
Lorde, Supercut.
Somebody had lit a firecracker inside the boys’ washroom and the walls of the girls’ washroom were to be painted over to cover up the juvenile obscenities that unfathomably came out of their presumably innocent brains.
Junhui was on the last dregs of his romantic literature (calling it literature would be generous) reading spree, fumbling through trashy plots and cheap book covers in an attempt to learn about the feeling. Boy and girl meet, boy and girl fall in love inexorably. Nothing new to take note of, nothing worth holding on to. He is thirteen and has the sense to borrow them instead of buying, there is no money to be spared on romance books. His mother would have his head for wasting time, but he needed to know. Reading under the blanket had become increasingly difficult.
The hallway was a field for the rowdiness of roaring boys, running dangerously with war cries and breaking away the grip of intertwined hands of unaware bystanders. They tried to loop Jihoon into it too, but to no avail as their persuasion was shrugged off. Jihoon has some of the highest grades in the class and he does not talk to girls.
Junhui knew he had failed the test, but couldn't help but giggle with Soonyoung at the back of the classroom when it was announced both of them had a single digit to their name. Junhui is a transfer student, but mouthy enough to get Soonyoung to talk to him. He is invisible still, probably would never make a mark in the student body. Another wallflower in the garden, they grow everywhere, uninhibited.
Through blunder and chance, a friend circle forms and Junhui calls Jihoon a loser to his face in a banter of brandishment. Their surroundings erupt in laughter but an anchor is dropped. It would stay there for a long time as the water changed its ways, it would rust and stink when it is rustled and it would take a hundred horses and elephants to uproot it.
Jihoon’s teenage corruption agitated Junhui, he was an atypical being who cared about everything and nothing at once. A shell of goodness as a facade for the grown ups and a core poisoned by radiation, threatening to corrode anyone who tried coming closer. Teenagers tend to be a different kind of evil, a time when neuroticism runs haywire in the not yet fully developed mind. For Junhui, who was policed the way girls usually are, everything was scandalous and naively, nothing was so fearsome that could deter him still.
Junhui sensed the humane evil inside Jihoon and yet he wanted to reach for it, he was inexperienced with people but not foolish. It is a pain to be misunderstood, perhaps you are not what I see with my naked eye, maybe there is something more to you. An acquired taste, a quirk, just as there is a right time to eat a fruit. Everything is daunting at the beginning, when humans first discovered fire, they must have been burnt too. Junhui never had arrogant claims to change him, there was no way he could rewrite Jihoon’s genetic code or relocate him into a controlled environment. It was a personal observation, something to keep him busy for the next few years. It could become a proper friendship, if he was lucky.
Those who have lived without the affections of a friend must know the dearth of it. And Junhui knew plenty of that. Wracking his brains, wondering who would like to come to his birthday party after his best friend left for another city back in fourth grade.
No one. No one. No one.
Jihoon, a prodigy as he was, was also a creature with great disdain for all. Bored of the porn he had already watched or the likes of it, bored of the movies they released and bored of flipping through questionable manga. He got addicted to the guilty pleasures life had to offer and rose above them in succession. Nothing mattered to him for very long. His mother’s golden boy and a great student, jaded as they come with a seal of approval from adults. His frail health could not keep up with his sharp mind, doctor's visits were routine to him. The kind of guy who doesn't need to try very hard to excel in anything, the kind of guy you get jealous of.
Friendship was difficult to conceptualise, as are all other relationships. People expect things that he can’t give and he doesn’t know how to make that right. They don't teach you that anywhere. It’s a good enough justification, ask anyone they would tell you people were shitty anyway. So what’s all the fuss about?
How annoying must have been for him to accommodate Junhui into his life, a perpetual bother, he would think as he dialled Junhui’s number for the third consecutive day in the week. And it was only Wednesday. In his defense, he had tried.
While the other boys in the world resonated with the Joker and looked up to him, all Junhui wanted to do was eat his food in peace and watch his tv shows. Growing up was just around the corner.
Junhui learns being gay is a thing with the knowledge passed on by his classmates, but he does not consider himself to be one. He wears skirts to school because that’s what is prescribed for bodies like his. His parents call him their daughter and he doesn’t exactly mind being addressed that way, his teachers say he’s a good girl with a lot of potential and that only creates inconspicuousness.
Sure, visions of the girls he had kissed for fun floated in front of him but a message cannot be read if it is not decoded. Since that was inconceivable, he spends his summer hand crafting a pen stand for his male crush (something he and Jihoon would laugh over later), who clearly doesn't care about him but somehow Junhui had convinced himself that he would regard Junhui as a human being deserving of respect. As sincere as that gesture was, his crush almost sneered at Junhui in irritation when he tried to hand over the gift and he could almost hear a soundtrack of mocking laughter playing in the background.
Soonyoung gave him a sympathetic look, one should remain within their implicit social hierarchy, he knew that too.
A cryptic love letter appears on his bag one day without an undersigned when he comes back from kicking stones around during recess, he opens it as his peripheral sight captures the amused faces of people who put it in his bag, the antagonists in every other high school story. For drama he scoffs and tosses it right in the trash can. He can tolerate pranks, he could not tolerate bad grammar.
They don’t talk about it, Junhui and Jihoon. They don’t talk about Junhui’s life at all. Like what makes him angry or why does Junhui so adamant on wanting to die. They talk about comics and jokes, about stupid classmates and issues of the world as informed by social media. Marooned in their own world, a mutual understanding was established. They bond over the ordinance of life and their intentions of making the other responsible for themselves in the future. You get a job soon and support me. The baton is passed. Wasn't that supposed to be you?
School was busy and not private enough, so Jihoon pretended he did not have anything to say to Junhui to ward off unwanted attention. You know what they say when a boy has a girl best friend.
Although Junhui started it on trial, it turned out Jihoon gave in to his pestering suspiciously early and in a dreamlike state was even eager to reciprocate. It was an erratic experience to hear your otherwise dead phone ring everyday or find missed calls. It was surprising that somebody would want to talk to him everyday like this, though Jihoon always said him being bored was the only reason that had led him to call. It was a tug of war for Junhui, to be wanted one day and subtly dismissed at whim the next day.
They wrestled during breaks and laughed amongst themselves, Wonwoo was slowly taken into their small group. She was a nice girl, but serious and quite ominous up close. Junhui had her when he had no one, one single friend who was invited to his twelfth birthday party, the year friendship was a famine.
“Wonwoo likes Jihoon,” Soonyoung brings Junhui to the corner one day. Junhui scrambles to deliver the message to Jihoon. The class is empty, everyone out for once in a lifetime opportunities.
Soonyoung and Junhui took it upon themselves to be Wonwoo and Jihoon’s representatives, it was fun to play cupid and match two impossible people with each other. Like a circus unfolding.
“Do you like Jihoon?” Wonwoo confronts him during her and Jihoon’s talking stage, leaving Junhui dumbfounded. As cliche as it sounds, he is reminded that he was a part of society where a girl and a boy having truce among themselves was apparently enough to make sparks fly in other's eyes.
“Huh? No! Where did you get that from?” He asks, sceptical of Wonwoo’s doubts and its possible origins. In his mind, it bubbles, images of him obviously clinging to Jihoon during any free time they may get. It was innocent and unconscious, but people have eyes and creative imagination to spare.
“If you guys are like that please tell me, I’ll take care of my feelings.” Wonwoo speaks honestly, looking square into Junhui's eyes. Jihoon argues about nothing with Soonyoung in the background, in the same dismissive tone he commands. He laughs at something and his gaze meets Wonwoo's calculating one, which he diverts urgently.
That makes Junhui break into a laugh, “It’s not like that, we’re just close. If I wanted him I wouldn’t be trying to set you up right? Trust me I am not that nice.” He impulsively plops into the seat, facing her fully. He smiles at her to make his case stronger, offering his allyship.
Wonwoo looks at him, like she was trying to convince herself but says nothing to contradict him. Her and Junhui have both decided to sympathise with the anti-hero, Junhui is the closest person to Jihoon so she would have to take his word. They would both learn to persevere.
Junhui is the closest person to Jihoon.
Junhui was born around the summer solstice when days get progressively longer. The summer after Wonwoo and Jihoon broke up, Junhui learns he may unwittingly have some part in it. His worst fear about Jihoon came true, he could not show his love in ways they describe. There was a time when Junhui wanted to put Jihoon in a room where everybody talks about their feelings and the door would only open once everyone had said their part. Knowing someone so deeply can be a curse, you keep finding excuses to free them from the dungeon of accusations and grudges.
Wonwoo claimed it was because Jihoon was already in love with Junhui but the latter knew it couldn’t be true. Jihoon cared about Junhui in the best possible way given his record for caring in general because Junhui was tolerant with him and because there wasn’t a choice. Junhui had flung himself into Jihoon’s territory and demanded his care, shaved it off him with a begrudging knife.
“Jihoon would walk around my cold dead body if it ever came to that, he doesn’t care about me.” He exclaimed as a throwaway statement and Jihoon kept silent, never one to defend himself or perhaps it was true. Jihoon never knows how to deal with people, dead or alive.
He has told Junhui that. He has also told Junhui how he could hurt Jihoon like nobody else, when he's called out on his hypocrisy and how Junhui's ruthlessness in dealing with him had ironically made him less brutal. The mortal peril of being seen and known.
Being Wen Junhui to Lee Jihoon, was like watering a plastic plant, like a seed that never germinated and was replaced by a cheap non living replacement for decoration. It was a myth that relationships were always 50-50, that wasn’t true. It only depended on the discretion of those involved, every action, every word spoken and every connection was a choice that was consciously made. One could be strangers tomorrow.
Junhui didn’t understand why people told him to get together with Jihoon, why they wanted him to be damned. On the other hand, he couldn’t even understand himself, his raison d’etre for sticking with Jihoon who was distant and self indoctrinated into passivity. People told Junhui he was too nice, too accepting. He saw the best in people, even as the world went down. But in truth or at least what he told himself, Junhui saw Jihoon as a specimen, he was a willing participant in Jihoon's metamorphosis. Like a researcher facilitating conditions, to observe and note the various gradients of human existence. Humans after all are naturally curious. It had nothing to do with romance or dating, even God cannot the control the lives of humans. What is to happen, will happen. Some questions don't have answers, Junhui had discovered.
It wouldn’t be so simple if he were in a male body, Jihoon would probably break his nose for trying to kiss him but his present body gives him access to Jihoon in ways the masculine ego would not permit. The rare softness that was spared and exclusive brushes against Junhui's skin as they sit together in the couch which would easily give off the message of how intimate the exchanges of dialogue was between them. Junhui could climb into Jihoon's lap one day and destroy what they had built but that would be too primitive, a waste. Would you call it mothering? Or the obsession of a lover? Junhui subscribes to neither because there's no black and white to this.
He tells Jihoon he is boy and girl and everything in between and sometimes just a philosophy, he’s not sure Jihoon understands but he asks a couple of questions which make Junhui happy. He asks if he should call him by another name and Junhui feels flattered as a consequence of mattering.
They kiss each other goodbye at Junhui’s door, just a peck once and twice with a promise of never again. Maybe Jihoon would willingly pull Junhui closer for a hug when he leaves, call it a reward or a token of genuine affection. It would be ideal if they were lovers but because Junhui knows he deserves better, they aren’t.
Wonwoo hates Jihoon for their broken affair, even though they were kids when it unfurled and eventually came crashing. Jihoon admits his inadequacy to Junhui but stalls apologising to Wonwoo indefinitely because Wonwoo hates him and Jihoon cannot take the heat. The hatred trickles down to Junhui, in a different form and it follows Junhui everywhere even after Wonwoo has assured him that she doesn’t blame him.
Correlation does not mean causation, Junhui has been trying to make Wonwoo understand ever since she had declared the passive aggressive war on him and Jihoon. Junhui would not take responsibility for the damage Jihoon had caused, it was beyond him.
They are twenty and on a trip on a hill station, where Wonwoo lets loose with each sip of alcohol she takes in. Contempt charges her so strongly that the vodka hardly stings her. Every single guy she has dated has turned out to be shitty.
They play truth or dare, where Junhui playfully squanders by saying that he would flirt with someone in a relationship if he liked them that much. Wonwoo snorts at the response and says, “Of course you would.”
The room stops in motion, everyone is looking at them sensing discord. Junhui feels humiliation bubble inside him and curses Jihoon internally for always leaving him behind to clean up his mess. He knows he should be outraged but because it’s Wonwoo, he tries a different approach.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Wonwoo shrugs and says with unveiled mockery, “Your best friend is a real piece of work, you know that?”
“He’s not my best friend. I haven’t talked to him in ages,” Junhui pauses, “And I still lament over the fact that it was I who put you together. It was a mistake.” He provides as appeasement even though it wasn’t really his fault. Damage control was his specialty after all. He wants to be supportive because that could be him in place of Wonwoo, if he weren't the smarter one.
They look at each other and Junhui takes a sip of Wonwoo’s drink. Everyone around had gone back to their own business.
“Jihoon is an asshole.” Wonwoo states, so sure of it and so bitter. The apathy that comes with misconceptions, she had always hated how she could never learn Jihoon as Junhui did. Junhui mirrors her because he understands her desperation and wants her to know that, “Yeah he is one big asshole.”
Their eyes meet and they smile at each other, as if insults weren’t hurled around just a few moments ago.
Junhui pours himself some sprite and toasts, “Fuck men. You better stay away from trash guys.”
“Fuck men,” The drinks go down and Wonwoo blinks up in a sleepy haze, “Tell me why do I always end up with men who fuck me over.”
Contacting Jihoon first has been a long suffering event for Junhui, he hates it because in Junhui’s mind it means surrender. It takes several tugs for a braid to become undone, it was Junhui’s conviction that Jihoon must put effort too. Throughout their friendship during school, because phone calls were the best way to get to Jihoon, Junhui had made a pact with himself that he would never contact Jihoon first and that would be Jihoon’s testimony to their friendship.
It had worked until they graduated and went separate ways. College was busy for anyone attending and to Jihoon’s ease, he had no sort of liability in the form of Junhui anymore, he was more or less, free.
For years Junhui had decided to keep away from the cold war, because he felt Wonwoo and Jihoon’s business was theirs and theirs alone. Things would fix themselves as time passed and they became more mature but since he found himself in the eye of the storm, staying aloof seemed wrong. These are people he had third wheeled in his lifetime! Committed to reconciling his two close friends, Junhui angrily texts Jihoon that he had fucked up and he needed to set things straight. Unable to restrain his curiosity about his own apparent misdeeds, Jihoon calls.
It goes something like this.
Junhui narrates the entire event, Wonwoo’s blunt confrontation, her admittance of how much the relationship had affected her and its repercussions on Junhui because of loose ends. Jihoon listens as he always does, listening one time and drifting away another, his semester finals are around the corner and his brain is overloading. And he reacts the way Junhui had expected him to, he was predictable like that.
“What do you want, Jihoon? Talk to me, please.” Junhui’s angry tone subsides and gets replaced with something akin to care.
“Let me leave all this behind, forget I exist, I don’t care, just leave me alone.” Jihoon’s declaration reverberates, saying it does not take a toll on him. He sounds fed up, emotional labour being his weakest suit.
“How could you ask this of me out of all people? After all these years…” I have stood by you and cared for you. Why do we need to keep having the same conversations?
A promise comes to his mind, years ago when Junhui had nothing to give to Jihoon on his birthday, he had written on a sheet of paper “You can have three wishes that you can ask of me in the future and I will fulfil them if I can,” and handed it to the younger. It might’ve looked silly but Junhui was sincere. Junhui is sure Jihoon doesn’t remember it anymore and probably has lost the note somewhere in the rubble but still, it crosses his mind in an inconvenient time.
“I don’t wanna talk about what has passed anymore, I don’t want to fix things or remember that they even happened. So let me go and be by myself.” Jihoon tries to sound unaffected, as if it was all he wanted all along. Maybe he did, the thought scratches Junhui’s skull, ricocheting after colliding with a wall of hope and of possibilities.
“Why can’t you try? Tell me.” Junhui presses still, because he always hustles after Jihoon, he always grasps emptily for an underlying meaning behind Jihoon’s demeanour and words.
“I want a fresh start. That’s all. That’s why I am trying to cut everyone off. I am tired and I can’t sustain this.” The realisation is disturbing, the way Jihoon had stopped hanging out with his school friends even when he would be back home or how he was almost never active in their childish group chat. Junhui had noticed it all but never delved deeper because Jihoon comes and goes as he pleases.
“What do you want me to say to that?” Junhui says, knowing that the detachment Jihoon had initiated included him as well.
“I have class in five minutes, I am gonna go. We’ll talk about this later.” Jihoon cuts, frustration bleeding through the line.
Junhui considers stopping him and berating him until his ears fall off, an obsession that is innate. However many hits it takes in a gold mine to reach the spoil.
You’re never gonna talk about this, are you?” He says instead, more to himself than to Jihoon.
“Probably not.” Jihoon closes on an agreement.
“Fine. Do as you wish, bye.”
The thing is, he had lied to Wonwoo. Junhui falls into his bed, the laundry tumbles on the floor and his phone is at 39%. He had lied out of solidarity with Wonwoo that Jihoon wasn’t his best friend. Logically, how do you call someone who isn’t interested in you as your best friend?
How do you call someone who wants nothing to do with you as your best friend? Junhui finds it laughable, he always had. Ever since he had attached himself to Jihoon years ago, he had wanted to figure this out. The workings of his prefrontal cortex which have never failed him before, which grounded him all these years because Jihoon was worth it to him. People aren't always easy to deal with, that's hard stuff.
Despite his drawbacks, his godforsaken behaviour and his utter disregard for people, no matter how much Junhui complained about Jihoon to the man himself or to others, Junhui would always be there whether he liked it or not. A skewed sense of loyalty that was nearly unconditional.
After the call, Junhui had made up his mind to move on and leave Jihoon to his own devices just like he wanted for a change. Clinging to someone who doesn’t want you to was pathetic, Junhui had so painstakingly learnt to draw boundaries over the years and now he kept breaching them on his own. But wasn't he entitled to that since it was his to begin with? So as a first step, he deletes Jihoon’s number. The frivolous gods looked inside their bag of offerings to find a phone number.
As their friendship was so private, because it had no traces beyond both of their existence as they were forgotten pieces of different puzzles, it should’ve been easy to wrap up their associations and light it up the furnace. But you can’t obstruct your consciousness, you cannot stop the intrusive thoughts and their memory from invading your being. Once your lives have crossed each other, it is impossible to undo it. You either remain at that intersection or you depart in different directions but it is impossible to make it go away, it is unidirectional. And just like that Junhui could not cut his ties off so easily.
Jihoon would often whine about how socialising was exhausting and how most people drained him, that was not a crime but that certainly left Jihoon without any close bonds. All this while Junhui would take note of it all and say to himself, we cannot trust this guy, love him if you wish but do not search for yourself in his eyes. Do not destroy yourself for him.
Humans are born with free will, they say in Junhui’s psychology classes, the opposing side in the debate called determinism claimed that humans were always constricted by the conditions they were exposed to in life.
Junhui had exercised his free will when he became Jihoon’s friend, walking into it with a sober mind. He knew what he was getting into and how friendship with Jihoon would not be a linear path where normal rules would apply. Jihoon had never claimed to be anyone other than who he always had been. There was no pretence in it and Junhui had accepted it back then, absorbing the social cues surrounding Jihoon. And now it was one of those days where he was being tested.
Neither party made any effort to contact each other. Junhui treated it like a withdrawal period. Abandonment was a strong word, you cannot abandon someone who did not wish to be tied to you. A methodical estrangement was a better explanation for it, one particle buoying in the sea alone while the other drifts away callously.
No more of that grump Jihoon and his shitty engineering college rants. No more of that nasty gremlin laugh and moodiness. No more calls and disjointed texts because somebody didn’t care to reply.
“I am not his fucking girlfriend! You want me gone but you’re nothing without me!” Junhui would yell out in the atmosphere in the middle of an odd day, resolute and rightfully entitled.
Jun had other friends who were better, Jihoon had friends who were more useful to him. The balance was about to be restored in the universe. But then, you don’t make friends because they ascribe something to your name. You don’t make real friends for personal gains. You make friends because one day you cared and never stopped, because your soul performed a personalised handshake and their soul did it back.
Days seeped into weeks and Junhui was three random hurt pangs away from turning into Mitski’s daughter. Something called to him at the most mundane crooks of time, as if he was doing something against his conscience. He wondered if Jihoon was sick again, whether his professors were on his ass again and if Jihoon missed him. The time when Jihoon called him one evening and told Junhui with a quiver in his voice that somebody at the dorm was mean to him as Junhui tried to reassure him that he got Jihoon's back. All was permissible, Junhui reassured his heart, as love was hardly a thing which could be ripped out haphazardly. Even medicine worked at its own pace.
Scrolling through the documents folder in search of his syllabus, he finds the PDF sent by Jihoon two years ago. Junhui knew the content like the back of his hand, Jihoon and his backhandedness. Junhui had pestered Jihoon for a letter addressed to him to articulate Jihoon’s emotions (and also because receiving letters were among top five living experiences for Junhui).
“....you must regret talking to the quiet kid in seventh grade as now I am attached to you like a gum under the desk…” a sentence read among the other bullshit. The uncharacteristic, perpetually amused and more inviting side of Jihoon offering an admittance of Junhui's role in his life.
"...even though you are harsh on me, I cannot protest because it's how I treat other people as well..." Junhui scoffs brokenly at Jihoon's self awareness. Insight of self has no use if application of the unveiled information doesn't manifest, as great thinkers would say.
“...thank you for playing a part in making me better…” Junhui ignores the “I guess?” at the end of the sentence and moves along the other bullshit typed in by Jihoon to increase the word count of the page. He felt pathetic battling the demons in his mind, embarrassed by how much he was acting like those girls who gave in to the bare minimum efforts of men in their lives. Toyed by the whims of thankless beings.
He kept it in the best he could, his two cents and the urge to bawl like a newborn. Then once it starts becoming unbearable, he rips out his notebook and flattens a page.
To Jihoon,
I wonder if you would have tried more if I was a better friend, maybe you would've cared more about me. But I don't think it's that. I think you care about protecting your peace more than you care about being my friend. That's why it's so easy for you to tell me to let go of our friendship. Even now, I am trying to understand where you are coming from because I am so used to doing that for you. But I won't anymore. I don't think you deserve me, you never did but it didn't matter to me. You tried your best to not care because it was a chore to you but I am never one to go down without a fight, I was adamant on giving a taste of your own bitter medicine. That's why I am meaner to you, you that right?
But I understood that, didn't I? You and your stupid shoulds and musts. You always act like you don’t give a fuck but you care a lot how others perceive you. You’re a huge baby and you run away when things get a little difficult. Some days I am at the end of the wits about what I should do with you, when my friends ask why I put up with you, me who is strong willed and knows right from wrong. You’re like an assignment which is due tomorrow and I can’t find the right material to put in there. The worst nightmare.
I wonder if I could die for a little while to see if you would visit my cold body. I know you won't, not because you didn't care to but because you couldn't as you are a coward, but I wish you would pleasantly surprise me. I wish you could feel the pain of losing me, even though you never wanted me in the first place. But thankfully then, you'll also forget about me. Making someone suffer to test them is a cruel thing to do but people never really die for a little while. They're gone forever just as I would be. And I won't exist. We'll never have to meet in this lifetime again.
People must put their love in multiple places, to escape the chance of losing everything all at once, in a flood, in an earthquake and in man made disasters like this one. I stored some of my love in you, it is probably wrecked with mould and faded due to lack of care but I don't know how to take it out. It is orphaned as you don't want it and I can't take it back. It will remain within you. Please prove me wrong.
I think to myself, do you even know me? Have you made any effort to? Or do you just go with the flow, engaging because that’s what one does in a situation? Which specialised hotline should I call to reach you?
On the surface level we do not have much in common, but there has to be a reason why I was willing to be your friend and why we managed to talk so much with so little to share. I am gonna trust my instincts on that. It would be a disservice on my part to paint you out to be a bad person down to your bones. I hope I am not gaslighting myself into believing that but you can be better, it's a fact to me. I wish you would go to therapy. I am fucking rambling and writing with the speed of a bullet train, I will never send this to you as it would reveal things I don’t think you deserve to know but that’s how it is now. I may nag a lot but you understand how it’s necessary for an emotionally constipated piece of shit like you. You think you’d be better without any ties but I think you know how it’s not true. We need people as human beings, we cannot survive alone. You crave them too but you'd rather not go through the turmoil that comes with loving and being loved.
But I do admit, I may have protected you too much when we were younger because I thought you needed that embrace but I understand now how stubborn you are. So I will not apologise for being stubborn as I am too. Let’s be equals. Since you’ve never concealed what you were ever since the first day, I will not blame you for the heartburn you give me. I let you off way too easily, you know that? I used to think I was weak when it came to you but turns out it takes immense strength to put up with you, I am quite good at it. Olympic level.
You are a strange boy, when you said the best you can do for humanity is not to become a nuisance to anyone, I thought to myself that it was a good place to start. It was a simple and achievable goal. As I am strange too, the younger me probably pondered on the experimental nature of our encounters. The hypothesis that you were more than what you saw yourself as was there at the back of my head. My curiosity got ahead of me and before I knew it we were friends of the twisted kind, you’ve taught me a lot about here and there.
I have never expected anything more from you than what you’ve showcased but it still makes me physically sick to leave you alone in the world. But on the contrary, I think I did expect you to be there in hindsight even though you're shit at the “being there” aspect. You’re probably gonna stand there with your mouth open like an idiot. Remember the time I forced myself to cry back in tenth grade when we were all hanging out at my place because things were so tense in our group after your breakup? You walked out of the room because it was too much for you. Yeah. But that’s what friends do, they support each other in becoming the best versions of themselves. I don’t know if you need me, perhaps I am overestimating my own worth but I know you confide in me so I cannot make myself leave. Trust me I have tried.
And even though you take me for granted, I still love you and cannot go without thinking whether you’re alive or not. It’s something which comes with being best friends. No, I cannot let you go. Deal with it. Fight back, don't just boil in your own misery.
With equal parts of love and hate,
Junhui.
Junhui reads it over, the little places where the paper ruptured under the tyranny of his pen and grimaces comically. Too many feelings and too much vulnerability, things Jihoon was aversive to. Good thing it’s going nowhere and was only the means to an end for his catharsis.
That night, when he’s nestled under the blanket and the room temperature is just right, he re-saves Jihoon’s number and hovers over his profile. Junhui had a rule, anything he was battling with had to be solved before he went to bed that night. Otherwise, he couldn’t sleep properly with inner turmoil plaguing him overnight. So without a second thought and because he was the normal one out of them both, he texts Jihoon. So much for no commitment.
are u alive?
Jihoon texts back in five minutes.
yea why
Like nothing ever went down. Junhui smacks his forehead, of course he was the one who was thinking too much.
are ur finals over?
are u ready to talk like adults now
Jihoon starts typing and stops, then types again. yeah finals are over
The call next day lasts for fifty seven minutes, give or take. Junhui makes cooing noises and professes his love in a babyish serenade by the end of it, demanding kisses on the phone and Jihoon settles on a discrete "I luv u 2" in reimbursement. Junhui had relapsed, as a habit. For Junhui, Jihoon's rejection is futile. They both know it's irrelevant.
Some other day Jihoon talks about his relationship with Wonwoo. It materializes out of thin air and Junhui has to check whether he's hearing it right. It was a hugely touchy subject, Jihoon was still recovering from the aftermath. His other guy friends became distant due to their jealousy, as Jihoon was the first out of them all to start dating or maybe due to a change in Jihoon's disposition, they were unable to get used to the idea of their two friends dating each other. Everything redundant and childish in Junhui's books.
“I don’t think we ever had closure, we just kind of stopped talking and now she scares me. Haven’t you seen how she glares at me every time we cross paths?” Jihoon gushes, careful not to wake his sleeping roommate.
“You were kids, nobody is telling you to become friends but the least you can do is apologise for your mistakes when you were together because let’s face it, you were not a good boyfriend and the rest is in her hands. She genuinely thinks you destroyed everything and I really don’t wanna get caught up in the crossfire.” Junhui admonishes him with finality.
“Okay maybe somedayyy….” Jihoon drags his words and Junhui sighs on the other side, “Grow up, will you? You’re not the only one in the world with a failed teen relationship.” He rolls his eyes even though Jihoon can't see him.
“Or I could just never show myself to her again?” Jihoon suggests and Junhui groans like a disgruntled pet owner whose pet refuses to not pee on the carpet.
Junhui turns in his sleep, he is fifteen and he hates wearing a bra to bed. His father nudges him awake one morning, through sleep addled and barely functioning senses he deciphers some of the stuff his father is saying to him. “Jihoon is here on his bicycle” at ass o’clock in the morning.
Junhui jostles and grabs at his chest, hurrying to the bathroom. When he returns Jihoon is sitting on the chair paired with his desk, leafing through the maths summer break homework. The sun had barely risen, the yellow light was peeping in, colouring them both in a warm tone.
“How the fuck did you get here with the gates closed?” Junhui whacks the back of Jihoon’s head.
“I climbed over the gates, I think one of your neighbours saw me doing that,” Jihoon grins, actually enjoying his recent adventure. He wipes his nose, which already buzzing with the aftereffect of the wind. He eyes Junhui who was fresh out of sleep, his defenses down and almost cute.
“You, what? No you didn’t.” Junhui laughs at the image of Jihoon, sized the way he was crawling over the walls of his house like an actual bug amused him immensely.
“I did. Your dad saw me halfway through and opened the locks but I was already in by then.”
“You madman! You could’ve called or something.” Junhui drags the extra chair towards himself to sit beside his friend.
“At six in the morning? Isn’t your phone always on DND mode?” Jihoon shrugs like it’s obvious. Junhui shakes his head, with a strong urge to kiss Jihoon’s face.
“Help me with this problem, will you?” He says instead pointing to the unfinished equation he’d been at disagreement with, as it carries the same weight.
Dear Jihoon,
It is as cold as you are on your birthday, so it is not cold at all, it's just complicated. People react to this weather just like I react to you, unsure, toeing into the realm of unpredictability and perfectly ready to deal with it again. Happy birthday, don't get sick and make new friends this year. It will be a better year and when things get rough, remember that I love you and believe in you.