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＞＜
Seungmin has a lot on his mind. Like a riptide in his mind, it nags at him constantly and he even succumbs to it sometimes. When he does, he feels hopeless, lost, and weak. He would feel as if he couldn't control it himself like it was a challenge. It could've been because he was inexperienced, but the amount of times he's experienced this finds that clearly irrational.
Luckily, his friend was always there.
His friend, Jeongin, always knows how to comfort him when things get overwhelming. When he's cluttered with exams, Jeongin always makes room for him to be free . To take a break, as he'd like to call it.
It was a specialty he held onto throughout college, whenever they'd get together and do something, it was always Jeongin leading. Seungmin never minded it, though, as he'd enjoy Jeongin picking out things for him. Even if they'd do the most absurd things, Seungmin still enjoyed it. It always made him have a dorky smile whenever Jeongin pulled out his polaroid camera.
"Are you there?" Jeongin whispers from beside him.
Seungmin flinches, naturally, and looks at the boy beside him.
They're both seniors now, itching closer and closer toward freedom. A new way of life. They were taught well enough to be capable of surviving themselves, yet Seungmin still felt it was incomplete. He couldn't point a finger at it, and whenever Jeongin questioned it, he answered truthfully with a shrug, because in reality:
He didn't know, either.
"Yeah," Seungmin's lips split into a grin. "Always."
Jeongin laughs at that, rolling his eyes while focusing his attention on the screen.
They eventually settled on a movie that pulled both of them into a drowsy state; Seungmin barely managed to keep one eye open. That's when he finds Jeongin's head leaning against his shoulder, the slow breaths through his nose. His chest fell up and down, and it made Seungmin's heart clench.
He too fell asleep to the rom-com finishing in the background. He let Jeongin rest against his head, giving him comfort on his underpriced and uncomfortable couch.
＞＜
Seungmin knew of Jeongin's passion for photography.
He's treasured his baby blue, petite polaroid camera since their freshmen year, even if his major required him to use higher-quality cameras. Whenever Seungmin questioned it, Jeongin always responded with his admiration for letting the photos appear. He has patience for them, and Seungmin feels it too.
"Hold that pose!" Jeongin says as they're strolling through the streets. The night sky lingers even as Jeongin's camera shines brightly into his eyes, causing him to blink afterward. "I bet it'll look so adorable,"
Seungmin laughs and playfully smacks Jeongin's arm. "No, it won't,"
Jeongin shrugs. "Then let fate decide." Seungmin's ears feel overwhelmed at this rate.
Jeongin has always yearned for fate, which is what Seungmin learns. He understands why. He always did.
The streetlights are practically glowing; it guides them. Seungmin watches Jeongin as he admires the beauty of the town. It was far less polluted than Seoul, which was where their campus was. It was always too polluted, and harsh to see anything clearly.
He watches as Jeongin takes pictures of the streets, and even of the sky. He knew that Jeongin had upcoming assignments, but he still paved way for his hobby. And for Seungmin to tag along, of course.
"So cute, Iyen-ah," he blurts. Jeongin turns to look at him, glaring through his eyes. Any protest simply dies down at that moment. Whatever Jeongin thinks, he seems satisfied and resumes collecting photos of the deserted streets.
Oddly, since it was the middle of spring, not many flowers bloomed or were actually visible. Some were planted on vines while others were in pots, humans nurturing them carefully and consistently. Seungmin could relate to that. After all, he's been through all the changes of Jeongin, whether it'd be physical or emotional.
He smiles when Jeongin wears a dopey grin after finding a small batch of natural flowers growing in a plot of soil. Seemingly uncared of by humans, he snapped photos of it and even showed the previous photos that he took that started appearing, including the one of Seungmin.
"Hey!" He shouts when Jeongin shows him the one of him holding out a peace sign. He felt embarrassed when Jeongin took it away from him and kept looking at it. "It's not funny!"
Jeongin is laughing at him. "You're right, it's cute,"
He pinches Seungmin's cheek. Seungmin doesn't protest. He enjoys it.
When they head back to the university, duty looms before them. They would part ways for another week, whether Seungmin liked it or not.
＞＜
Seungmin couldn't process just how fast time flew.
They had already graduated, and they were getting ready to move out of their dorm. Cardboard boxes aligned with each other in their living space, packed with all the essentials they brought to their place. There were some new ones, too.
"Did you finish packing?" Seungmin calls out to Jeongin, who's scouting for any items in the bathroom.
"Not yet," he said. Seungmin nods, but his gaze falls onto a peculiar box below his feet.
Memories, it read in black ink. Seungmin crouched down and flipped the box, with the same word being implemented on the other side. He opened the box carefully, as they hadn't taped any of the boxes yet, and saw them.
Piles of polaroid photocards were being held inside the box. Seungmin took a stack and the first photo was of Jeongin's freshmen orientation. The one after was the first time they took a photo together, also at freshman orientation.
Jeongin looked so young back then. Seungmin notes the change the boy has been through. Even throughout their earlier years, Jeongin was still... Jeongin. He was a frail, defenseless boy in Seungmin's eyes. He's helped him overgrow those hurdles, and Seungmin hates to admit that he misses those times.
Times when he taught Jeongin how to be carefree, or the times when they had little outings without both of their parents' permission. Those were the times that Seungmin could let Jeongin feel truly alive like he was living to an extent at which is negotiably satiated.
"I finished!" Jeongin exclaims as he approaches behind Seungmin, whose hand is examining the polaroids that were first in the stack he picked up. "Oh."
Seungmin turns to him, eyes sparkling. "You really captured everything, didn't you?"
Jeongin laughs. "Maybe not everything," he tugs at the sleeve of his shirt. "But that's another story. Come on!"
When they seal the boxes, Seungmin feels like he's isolating himself from his memories. And when he carries the box full of polaroids into their car, Seungmin can truly say that the memories will forever haunt him.
＞＜
They moved into another apartment not far from the Seoul district. It was dirt-cheap, debatably well-functional, and exactly what they needed.
It's been months since they graduated, yet Seungmin hasn't felt that closure just yet. He will, soon, his mind keeps reminding him. However long it'd take, he'd be willing to wait. He just wished he had the saint-like patience Jeongin was gifted with.
The topic of closure once again haunts him.
"You know," Jeongin said as he pulled out a box from their closet. He lets out a small gasp when he sees it. It was the box Seungmin went through when he was freshly graduated, barely anything of an adult. The decaying permanent black-ink mark of Memories was still there. "We haven't found a place for this. I was thinking of hanging them up but that seemed like too much work."
Seungmin blinks at the box Jeongin held. It felt like an eternity since he's seen it, only because Jeogin kept it hidden in the walls of his small closet.
"I was thinking of just keeping them in the box for now," Jeongin said as he stared at Seungmin. They maintained eye contact. "Should we?"
We, Seungmin reminded himself. These are the memories that they shared together, and Seungmin also had a say in what should be done with them. Hesitantly, he nods.
Jeongin smiles. Seungmin feels his heart drop at the sight.
When Jeongin redraws over the fading label, Seungmin feels like he's locking everything back up again. Back to square one.
＞＜
It's not surprising when Jeongin gets offered an opportunity in the States.
Seungmin, along with his things, is lined up in their living room. After today, this space would no longer be theirs, and Jeongin wouldn't be moving with him this time, though.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Jeongin admits with a pout. He has genuine sadness in his eyes, ripping away his connection with Seungmin for who knows how long. Seungmin didn't have the money or opportunities to go along with Jeongin.
Seungmin was doing fine, though. He had found a part-time job working graveyard shifts just to keep a passive income. Enough to pay the rent and needs for one person, what he would be from now on. There wouldn't be a split of the rent or the lack of fear over money. Jeongin was great at it.
"It's fine," Seungmin fakes a smile. The pain hinders his heart. "This is what you've dreamed of. You're finally doing what you love."
A photography job in another country makes Seungmin want to roll his eyes. Sure, the pay would be good, probably even better than what Jeongin was making, but it came with a price. And that price was Seungmin.
Jeongin shakes his head. "We'll call each other every week. I'll try to fit in some time to talk to you."
Seungmin knew it would be fine. Jeongin had learned a handful amount of English, enough to navigate for his arrival. Seungmin, on the other hand, did not even care about the language. He only cared about Jeongin.
Seungmin was about to say something, but then Jeongin held up a finger and turned to the boxes scattered across the floor.
There's rummaging going on. Seungmin can only blink dumbly as Jeongin scouts for something, his eyes training from object to object. He kicks some of the cardboard boxes in an attempt to clear up the volume. When he finds it, he turns back to Seungmin, eyes carefully locked with him.
"Here," Jeongin says. Seungmin's hands feel heavier now. His lips part when he sees what he's holding, and the air leaves his lungs.
Jeongin's polaroid camera.
"Take care of it," Jeongin said. "I'm trusting you."
Seungmin can't respond. He only nods, clutching the camera close to his chest.
"Our future," Jeongin says with a small, saddened smile as he picks up a box, and walks towards the door. Seungmin, carrying Jeongin's camera, closes their door. He seals the memories within it. Another hurdle. Another sign of no closure in near sight.
When Seungmin drops Jeongin at the airport, Jeongin tells him to "Take care of yourself." Seugmin looks at him and says "I will" and then he's gone. Seungmin fakes a smile when Jeongin turns back to look at him. He feels like he's been faking his smile this entire time.
It makes him come to a revelation. One that indefinitely cut the connection with the word "closure".
Seungmin doesn't bother responding to Jeongin's text. He leaves it on read.
＞＜
It's been two months since Jeongin left, and they've called infrequently. In the beginning, Jeongin says that it's been busy, and Seungmin claims that he's been given more hours. This isn't a lie, as the extra hours consequently ruined his sleep schedule.
Jeongin's camera has been sitting on his nightstand, waiting patiently for its original owner. To be quite fair, Seungmin's only taken one photo with it, and that was his new apartment. He wanted to show it to Jeongin sometime in the future, where they'd meet once more, and finally be able to reconnect and forget the past. They would be able to make a future.
They're calling for the first time in three weeks. Seungmin still feels that sense of a lack of closure, even more now. They're talking and there's something missing, and Seungmin realizes it.
He's realized it since the day Jeongin left.
The words fall from his lips faster than he could've predicted. "You know I loved you, right?"
Silence. It drags on. Seungmin thinks the connection was dismantled, or that Jeongin hung up, or even the phone service was cut, but his thoughts are answered when he hears unsteady breathing on the other end. It sounded shaky.
They stopped, and Jeongin audibly swallowed. Thickly, he poured out the words he'd treasured: "I did,"
Seungmin doesn't respond. Jeongin continues.
"I know it's an inappropriate time, but," There's the sound of rain falling outside. Seungmin can hear it from the other end. "I knew. I knew that you loved me. I picked up on it faster than I thought I would, but I knew because of your subtle hints. I always knew."
Seungmin inhales, slowly. Jeongin doesn't go any further, making Seungmin search for the right words.
"You knew this entire time," he begins. "Yet, you tell me now, in the most absurd situation?"
He had a point, they were practical across the world from each other. Jeongin was fulfilling his dream of photography in the States, while Seungmin was left behind in Seoul with no job and no hope left. The hope he had during his years in college and even before graduation was gone. It was like Jeongin was the one to succeed and not Seungmin. He was just there to witness it all first-hand, and feel it prickling into his skin the deepest.
Jeongin huffs out a shaky laugh. Seungmin can tell there are tears swelling in his eyes. He doesn't think he has the right to cry. "You're right," he barely whispers. His voice is low, like how Seungmin is feeling. Low and hopeless, no future in sight. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but I couldn't think straight. All I had on my mind was you."
"Then why'd you leave?" Seungmin can feel the tears threatening to spill. The hoarse voice that comes out doesn't help, either. "You could've stayed, but you didn't."
"It wasn't easy," Jeongin immediately responds.
Seungmin wants to laugh, or cry. Maybe both. "Really?"
"Trust me," his voice is barely audible. "I wanted to stay, but I also wanted you to be happy. You seemed happy when I got the proposition to move to the States, and I felt somewhat satisfied. That smile you had at the airport—it wasn't real, wasn't it? You were faking everything just to see me accomplishing things, and, meanwhile, you practically forgot about yourself in the process?" He laughs, maniacally, almost. It's sad. "Why?"
"It was all about you," Seungmin says. There's thunder roaring in the background, almost mockingly towards Seungmin's situation. "Everything—all for you."
"Then you should've taken care of yourself as well," Seungmin's nostrils flare at this. "I bet you're disheveled right now. You're lucky I'm not there. I would've slapped you." He half-jokes, but because of prior experience, and their current situation, Seungmin knew he wasn't lying.
"Yes," he admits. His throat is dry, he can't muster any more words. Despite that, Jeongin ignores him.
"I'm booking a flight back to Korea," he said. Seungmin's eyes bulge as if it was unexpected, which it was. "We're going to talk this out in person, and I want you to be honest. I don't think we can have a proper discussion over the phone. You better wait for me."
There's the silence I will that is oddly reminiscing about when Jeongin left. It doesn't need to be stated verbally for Jeongin to know.
When their connection cuts, Seungmin drops his phone onto the table. He doesn't feel like crying, he doesn't need to cry. He knows that they'll work things out, and the only thing that was challenging him was time.
The closure was finally in sight, and Seungmin was cautious about it. He wanted it to finally happen, to seal the emptiness of the past. To fulfill his future, their future.
Seungmin would wait, no matter how many more hurdles he'd encounter along the way.