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It didn’t surprise Uki when he saw the familiar head over the alcohol marker aisle.
The store was empty except for the cashier, who looked half-dead with the tell-tale dark circles every college kid had. The lights broke some weeks ago, a weird green tint to them; Uki had to squint to tell lavender from baby blue.
He glanced in Shu’s direction again. He looked different, yet so familiar at the same time. Shu had grown a bit taller, new glasses framing his face that lost baby fat, pale light coloring his face. Faded magenta highlights, the same yellow piece in his fringe just like in high school, that hoodie with a cat meme in the back.
Shu looked…… normal. Tired, for sure, since it was half past midnight, but he looked fine. Like if Uki blinked, he would mistake the moment as some time a few weeks ago, when they were still okay.
He looked away, placing some replacement marker cartridges into his cart. Ash rose, lavender, and Bougainvillaea— a vivid shade of orange-toned pink— and moved on to marker paper, deceivingly thin but working perfectly.
Shu was a set of metal shelves away. He used to put his hair in an updo with those blue pencils for drawing floorplan designs, going through dozens because he always forgot where he put them.
Uki sighed quietly, barely a huff of air. Steeling himself through the anxiety, he took a few strides over.
“Hi,” he started, lacking a better term.
“Hello,” came the reply. There was a faint smile on Shu’s lips, no malice in his gaze.
Uki felt himself smile too. “Here so late?”
(They always used to converse so easily, slipping into late-night talks that last through the entire night. For a second or two, Uki could almost imagine it wasn’t the first time they met after the breakup, ignoring that twang of guilt simmering in his gut.)
“You might not believe it, but I got through the last pencil I had just earlier,” Shu said, gesturing at the shelf. “I have an assignment due tomorrow morning— at 6 am.”
“Professor Kim again?”
“Yeah,” Shu huffed. “Who even wakes up at eight? Although, it’s partly my fault since I procrastinated……”
“You’ll be fine,” Uki said after a stretch of silence, the comfortable chatter drifting into something more awkward.
Shu nodded, taking two packs of pencils as he moved to check out. Fumbling for coins in his pocket, he took out some crumpled notes and a couple of pennies and placed them on the counter.
Uki turned back to his shopping cart, the different colors paling in the greenish light. He didn’t glance at the door when Shu left.
They started dating in Spring a few years ago back in high school, the season of supposed starts, cherry blossoms, and rain at the age of adrenaline rushes and puppy love.
Shu was the smart kid acing every test (with a trail-load of admirers that follow), while Uki had the reputation of a serial partygoer and the ‘ex’ singer trainee that never got to debut. The first spark turned into a “best friends” situation that quickly escalated into a full-on fire burning everything in sight.
(Uki did not plan on falling so thoroughly— but Shu was a breeze that encapsulated him in his arms, whispering every anxious thought and every tear away until Uki was truly himself again. How could he not give out his entire heart?)
It was storming when Uki kissed Shu for the first time, under an umbrella right in front of the Architecture building. The setting was cliche, like in a romantic drama, but Shu was warm and Uki’s heart pounded louder than the raindrops. Half-lidded eyes, caught in surprise, that smile he felt through the kiss— it was exhilarating to remember.
Their first date was at a riverside park, trees of pink flowers decorating the clear, blue skies. The festival was bustling with activity, food stalls and cute souvenir shops lining the stone-paved road. Uki painted Shu that day, his hair flowing in the wind and framing his face oh-so-perfectly it felt like everything in the universe aligned.
Spring held many good memories. Uki sometimes let himself be reminded late at night, staring across the small studio apartment in the dim light from his phone, at the photos of them stuck on his fridge.
He just didn’t feel the need to take them down.
The second time Uki saw Shu after the breakup was in general education English class.
It was an alternative period to the usual schedule, so there were significantly fewer people sitting in the large room. From the doorway, Uki could see Shu sitting in the third row. He was in another one of his flannel jackets, the familiar pencil in his hair, and a pair of gold-frame glasses perched on his nose.
In what was probably a flitting second of poor judgment, Uki walked over and sat down in the seat next to him.
Shu looked up immediately from his sketchbook. There was a doodle of a mouse— or is it a moose? next to a professional sketch of a modernist building.
“Good morning,” Uki said, knowing well that his voice hasn’t recovered from just waking up yet. Shu chuckled, then stopped abruptly as he seemed to catch himself.
“Good morning to you too,” was the reply, and they fell into silence again.
The professor came in shortly after, clearly hungover and more agitated than usual. Uki tried focusing on the PowerPoint, then how the professor’s walk pattern looked like an infinity sign, then the red curtains on the side of the classroom.
Shu kept scribbling in his sketchbook, head leaning on his elbow as a part of his fringe fell in his face. Uki had to resist the urge to lean in and brush it away.
Shu had always been Uki’s favorite subject to draw. It was a totally different satisfaction when he traced the delicate shape of his chin with fine-liner, capturing the crinkle of his nose and that cute squint whenever he got super focused on something. Pictures were definitely precious— his phone storage is still quaking with fear— but drawings were more intimate, laced with care and indecipherable emotions.
He blinked out of his stupor and there was a little doodle of Shu in his notes.
In these moments, it’s like they never broke up— although Uki was to blame, he supposes.
“Why did you two break up, anyway?”
Fulgur is the best supportive friend ever, Uki figured as he lay slumped on the bar table with a cocktail in hand. He totally is hindering his friend’s work shift, though, with the bar owner glancing at them disapprovingly.
“Yeah, why?” He slurred, blinking forcefully to try and regain soberness. “I’m pretty sure he’s still in all my wet dreams.”
“Eww, I did not want to know that.”
Uki frowned. “I thought you were supposed to be my supportive friend.”
Fulgur side-eyed him. “Nobody needs the mental picture of— fine, let’s pretend you never said that. Seriously, you’re still pining over him. Why don’t you go talk it out?”
“The thing is,” Uki felt the words slip out of his mouth as he downed his drink. “I was the one who broke up with him.”
“Well, why did you do that,” Fulgur sighed exasperatedly. “If you’re going to mope all night every single day of the week, getting drunk and crying sad poems about the damn guy?”
Uki held up a finger, feeling the haze of alcohol slowly painting over his sanity. “One more,” he gestured at the other bartender.
He turned back to Fulgur with watery eyes. “He’s too good for me,” he muttered, voice cracking. “I— I think, thought…… maybe, I don’t deserve him.”
Fulgur’s face was getting blurry. “You…… ”
Uki couldn’t remember what he said afterward, the world fading to black.
(The way drinks makes everything disappear is addicting.)
Shu sighed into his scarf as he quickened his pace, phone screen showing Google maps instructions to an unfamiliar bar.
“His emergency contact number was yours,” the voice on the line earlier said— was his name Fulgur?— “He’s completely drunk and I can’t leave my shift, can you come and get him?”
Shu stopped at a red light, breathing heavily as he brushed snow off of his coat. He could see the neon sign of the bar just a block over.
Why was he out in an unfamiliar area at 3 in the morning when he could’ve been playing video games in the comfort of his room? It’s questionable, but Uki had always been the exception and the one he broke rules for. It’s almost too easy to fall back into this pattern.
Like they had never broken up.
Shu shook his head to get the thought out of his head.
Stepping into the bar, Shu could see the familiar head of purple hair on the far side of the bar table.
“Excuse me, is any one of you Fulgur?” he asked, moving towards the counter. “I’m here to get Uki. You called me earlier.”
A man with silver hair and a striking red eye tattoo waved him over. “Oh, good thing you’re here— I can’t tell if he’s sobering up or going to puke.”
Uki’s eyes were closed, brows furrowed and lips quirked down in a frown. Usually, he would be in full makeup for a night out, glittery eyeshadow and a black cat-eye, but he doesn’t seem to be wearing any tonight. One side of his cheek was smushed into the black granite countertop, dried streaks of tears on his face as he breathed lightly.
“Hey,” Shu whispered, tapping on his shoulder. “Uki. It’s Shu. I’m here.”
Uki stirred, lifting his face up just to bury into his puffy-sleeved jacket again.
“You’re lying,” he mumbled, “Shu wouldn’t come.”
Shu’s voice softened. “I’m here. I’ll bring you back to your apartment, okay? Do you have your keys?”
“Shu hates me,” Uki insisted, sitting up in slow movements. “I’m a bad person. He wouldn’t come.”
He pulls himself into a standing position, stubborn in refusing anyone’s helping arm.
“I can’t let you leave alone like this,” Shu said, annoyance surging in his chest. “And I don’t hate you. Just lean on to me so you don’t fall over.”
Uki took a few more steps towards the door, then nearly toppled into Shu’s arms. He smelled like lavender and whiskey, two conflicting scents that made Shu’s heart clench.
Fulgur raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Are you going to—”
“Yeah, I’ll take him back to my place,” Shu sighed. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”
Fulgur smiled knowingly. “No problem.”
For maybe the hundredth time in the past few weeks, Shu thought about Uki as he finished tucking the unconscious man in bed.
First impressions, he was like a star materialized in human form. Whatever entertainment company that dropped Uki lost a huge opportunity— those alluring eyes locked onto Shu’s across the entire auditorium and it was like the crowd disappeared. Everything went quiet, the wind tousling his hair as it fell perfectly in place and Shu remembers himself asking, what in the world is this romance drama?
Looks alone can’t make him fall, but Uki was shining from within. His gaze would soften when he was painting, eyelashes looking so soft when brilliant color bloomed on canvas. Once Shu heard him sing at someone’s birthday party, and the crappy sound equipment couldn’t hide how angelic and emotional his voice was. In the snippets of conversation they would have, usually in general studies classes or the art supply store, Shu could see the kind, determined soul Uki really was.
The first kiss came as a shock. Shu had never even imagined that his emotions be reciprocated, convincing himself he was content with what they already had; but on that seemingly normal day, under that unassuming umbrella, Uki cupped his face and placed his lips on Shu’s. He must’ve looked stupid, eyes open and seeing the pretty curve of eyelashes fan out just centimeters away.
He remembers smiling halfway into the kiss, his heart being dropped into a tub of pure, golden joy.
That shining star was his sun now.
Except he isn’t anymore.
Shu was dozing off, head by the edge of the bed when he felt someone shake his shoulder.
He looked up dazedly, blinking as he focuses his gaze on Uki who had a complicated expression on his face.
“Um,” Uki said, voice gravelly like it always is when he just woke up. “Shu?”
That inquiry contains multiple questions, some of which Shu can’t figure out so early in the morning, but he rubs his eyes and sits up on the floor anyway. “You were drunk, the bartender called me, and you won’t give me your keys. So you’re here.”
“At your apartment.”
“Yeah.”
Shu pretends he did not see the wide eyes filled with confusion as he hoisted himself up standing with a huff. He does remember some leftover soup in the fridge— or should he give Uki water first?
“Do you want hangover meds?” He asks, “But it’s the box you bought last time you were here. Is it still safe to take?”
Uki brushed his fringe out of his face wearily. “I feel fine, at least for now.”
“You sure?”
“As fine as someone who drank until 3 in the morning and slept for 4 hours can be,” Uki said. A small smile crept onto his lips.
Shu let himself chuckle, moving towards the bedroom door. “Okay, I’m going to leave you in here for now. You can shower if you want. There’s some soup in the fridge I could heat up. Oh, and the clothes—”
He stopped himself before he could say it. Is it weird to lend your clothes to someone that’s not your lover?
Thankfully, Uki doesn’t seem to notice.
Shu’s apartment was just as Uki last visited, but there was something so different, too.
He had switched out the dark curtains to a lighter fabric, the collage of architectural inspiration on his wall growing in size and almost overlapping with his anime posters. The bookshelf had a significant amount of slots empty, most of the tomes stacking into a mountain on the cramped desk. A laundry basket sat on the floor, effectively making the room very difficult to navigate around.
A picture frame was on the bedside table, yet the side with the photo was turning away from the bed. Uki picked it up. It was a picture of them at an amusement park. It was probably the second date.
The last time Uki was here, he got into a problem with his parents that resulted in him losing the place he was renting at the time. He had stayed in this very room, cramped into the small space; the king single bed was not designed for two people’s comfort in mind, but waking up every morning in a warm embrace wasn’t bad.
After his shower, Uki found the hangover pills in the medicine cabinet where he had left them. They were expired, according to the date on the box.
With a towel on his shoulder, he walked out of the room and down the corridor into the living area. Shu was in the kitchen, back facing him as the aroma of chicken soup filled the air.
“The hangover meds expired,” Uki announced as he dropped the box into the trash can, leaning into Shu as he reached. “Wait, are you making me coffee?”
“Ah, this,” Shu smiled sheepishly. “I wanted some, so I thought I should make you some too. Black coffee with two ice cubes and a spoon of milk, right?”
Uki stared at the cup and felt like crying. Either it was from his lack of sleep, or he was so moved by the fact Shu still remembers his favorite coffee order. The strange warmness threatening to spill, combined with the familiar deep stab of guilt, made him want to ask that stupid question he’s been pondering for so long.
Why? There are so many meanings.
Why is Shu still so accepting of him, who has only proven to hurt him again and again?
Why is his heart still longing for the happiness they had, if the decision was made so undeniably before?
Why does he push the people he loves away?
It’s just a cup of coffee, he had to remind himself.
It’s just a cup of coffee.
Just—
“I’m sorry,” Uki had said that fated autumn night. “I can’t do this anymore.”
It was raining like the universe made a terrible joke. Uki’s head hung low under the umbrella, and Shu couldn’t see Uki’s eyes as he uttered those words that shattered his heart.
He was stunned. There weren’t any signs that anything was wrong— Uki had been a bit distant for the past few days, anxious about schoolwork— but there wasn’t anything major, or was it? The initial shock and disbelief quickly boiled down into full-on panic that seared through his heart and fell deep down into his gut.
“Wait, Uki,” he acted before thinking, taking Uki’s hand into his, “What’s wrong? I promise I’ll change it if you tell me, please—”
“It’s not something you can change.”
“You can’t just leave like this!” Shu didn’t even know he could feel so much at the same time. Sadness, pain, betrayal, desperation. “Please, just tell me, at least give me a reason!”
His breath was uneven and ragged with tears. Uki’s hand was trembling.
“It’s me,” came the answer finally, a choked-back cry barely audible. “Leave me alone.”
And Shu would’ve let the pieces of his heart be burned and buried— but there was something so painful in the word “alone”, that he stubbornly believes Uki means the opposite.
It could just be him trying to hold onto anything, anything that could prove the jagged memory to mean something else instead.
Because how does one live without his sun?
Uki knew he was oddly quiet at breakfast. He ate his soup slowly, gaze unfocused in deep thought. He could barely take a sip of the coffee without getting into a frenzy of tangled thoughts.
Shu looked at him in question, brows furrowed and gaze intent. “Does it taste funny?”
“No,” Uki almost snaps back subconsciously, then jolts as he stops himself. “The soup is good. The coffee? Even better.”
“I’m glad,” Shu replied with a small smile. “You know, it’s good to see you more often lately. Since the breakup already happened— at least one of us must be happy, right?”
Uki felt the gears in his head halt. He didn’t expect Shu to bring the events that day up so casually— but that wasn’t important now.
There was a sudden urge to refute everything this damned beautiful person just said. It was almost insulting for Shu, the fucking love of his life, to think Uki didn’t care enough to be sad after breaking up with him.
“Shu,” he started, emotions filling up his chest until it was fit to burst. “I’m not happy.”
The words caught up in his throat as warmth pooled under his eyes.
I miss you.
I can’t live without you by my side.
I know I’m selfish, insecure, and full of pain—
“I’m sorry,” Uki choked out, hot tears flowing down his face as he cried silently, biting his lip to fight the current of sadness threatening to break through.
Somehow, being held in Shu’s arms made it all more unbearable.
“It’s okay,” he was saying, his hand tracing circles on Uki’s back to calm down the shudders. “I—” he took a deep breath. “I never hated you, I never could.”
I’m here.
I’ll take your sorrows as my own.
I’ll love you no matter how many times I have to say it.
Uki could feel those words spoken to his soul.
Uki remembers some time a few years ago, before they were even dating, they were in the art club classroom painting the sunset.
Uki was picking out colors, swatching them on the corner of the canvas to compare them to the sky. Yellows, pinks, oranges, purples…… he glanced at Shu, his side profile lit up by a golden streak of sunlight, and nothing he could see was more breathtaking than him.
So silently, he moved his seat a little closer, angling the canvas in a different way. The vibrant hues seemed to twirl and move on their own, lost in thought until the painting wasn’t a landscape study of a sunset anymore.
He still had that portrait, hidden deep in his closet, a token of that one evening he tried capturing the soft breeze as his own.
“I thought I didn’t deserve you. I was a compilation of failures, with a mind wired wrongly and a jagged heart.”
“But if you chose to love me out of everyone else— then maybe, I’m not as bad as I thought I was.”
“Maybe the sun and the wind do belong together, after all.”