Work Text:
It's been two years since Hanbin died.
Taerae doesn't think that the pain is ever going to stop. So here he was again, in a fancy club a couple of blocks away from his apartment. The bartender, who doubles as his roommate, sighs as he takes the half glass of whiskey away from the man, "Alright, that's enough for tonight."
A warm hand ruffles his hair before another gently guides him to an ebony door with a paper snowflake around its ornament handle. Matthew, the bartender, helps him put on his coat and wraps a soft scarf around his neck before putting on his own.
As they go down the stairs, Taerae takes a moment to admire the city lights adorning the twilight sky. His mind was slightly hazy as a lazy grin plastered on his sunken face.
"I bet he's cursing at me right now," He whispers, a light chuckle forcing its way out of his throat. "I bet he's not even thinking of me anymore."
"He can't think if he's dead."
A pause. Then a flurry of booming laughter echoed through the streets, Taerae leaning against a brick wall clutching his stomach with his face scrunched up.
Matthew whirls around to come face-to-face with a tall, pretty boy with silky black hair. Smoke trails out of his ears as he points an accusatory finger directly into his chest, "Kim Jiwoong, you have to quit doing that!"
"I can't hear you from down there," Jiwoong, a worker from the bookshop under the club (ironic, isn't it) and his second roommate, raises a perfectly sculpted brow with a slight curl of his rosy lips: a challenge.
The fuming boy flips him off with a dagger-throwing glare and stalks off to link his arm around Taerae. He finishes the last giggle before wiping away the leftover tears and giving Jiwoong a quick wave.
Taerae smiles and tilts his head to Matthew's as he rambles about how the depressed reporter was only four centimeters taller than him and how tall people (read: Jiwoong) don't deserve rights.
Jiwoong looks on with a subtle gleam in his eyes— an indication that he's very entertained— and links Taerae's other arm with his.
The three march on like the Powerpuff Girls with chirpy laughter and bouncy steps. Taerae walks a bit more manufactured than the others, too happy to be true. A subtle oddity of his smile reveals something hidden beneath the surface. Yet, he's more than willing to leave the haunt of the past to stay back for just another minute.
His ghost only comes to visit him when he's alone.
Matthew and Jiwoong had long since gone to sleep, and he lay in his bed with a head full of nothing. He stares at the ceiling, imagining what life would be like if Hanbin was still here. If they would finally get the dream life they fantasized about over quick coffee dates: a cottage in the forest, a friend for Nana (Hanbin's cat), maybe even a kid or two, no worries.
Taerae thinks about it often. If you counted thinking every painfully living second of every tragic and miserable day as the word: often. It had him in a corner: trapped with nowhere to go, nobody to call, and nothing left.
So he envisions a world where he wakes up with a hand carding through his hair and a soft voice whispering, "Good morning, sleeping beauty."
They would spend another couple of minutes laughing at each other's bed hair before Hanbin left to get ready. He always complained that Taerae took too long.
"I'm just admiring my stunning features, thank you very much," He responded every time. Hanbin would chuckle, press a feather-light kiss on his cheek, and make his way to the bathroom.
Taerae would smile once he heard the water run, using these few quiet moments to think of the things he had to do that day. Although it was the same schedule every day: work, lunch with Hanbin (a coffee date if they were lucky), work, home.
Hanbin, on the other hand, was a lucky being. Being an up-and-coming artist meant having flexible work hours. He worked when he wanted and managed to reach his deadlines.
The two of them always met up for lunch— Taerae's office being a brisk walk away from Hanbin's studio. Even on their busiest days, they would at least stop by the convenience store and pick up a quick sandwich.
The artist waited outside the broadcasting office after work, and they'd walk home together. Hanbin often rambled on about how his studio needed a new heater while Taerae quietly listened with a smile.
Usually, Hanbin would continue working on a project once they got to their apartment while Taerae reviewed his articles of the day. The blue-haired boy got bored quickly and clung to his boyfriend like a koala until he finished too.
They'd make dinner together, the two being surprisingly decent cooks, then sit on the couch and finish another episode of whatever TV show they were watching.
Once the stars came out, they'd brush their teeth together and take horrendous mirror selfies until their stomachs ached from laughing.
Then came Taerae's favorite part of the day. He was able to curl under his fluffiest comforter with a soft hand grazing his cheek. Letting his problems drift for tomorrow to fix.
Now there was nothing.
Taerae glides his hand down his cheek and pretends. Pretends Hanbin's here to kiss his thoughts away and hold his hand through the darkness. He waits for it to start, and when it does, it comes with a vengeance.
It starts with something simple, a hot tear tracing down his face onto his pillow. Then it gets ugly fast. He gasps for air as that tear turns into too many to count. Wails and screams fill the room before slipping through the doors and into the empty hallways.
His heart gets heavier and heavier before it feels like it could drop right out of his chest any minute now. The world turns into nothing, just him and his mind in a never-ending black haze.
A familiar warm hand shines a light into his shadows and pulls him into their arms. In a moment of pure desperation, a single name leaves his lips in a broken whisper, "Hanbin?"
"No, it's Jiwoong. I'm sorry," A quiet sob. "I'm so sorry, Taerae." His roommate buries his face into his hair and weeps silently. Taerae sinks back into his hollow gorge of tears and wails into Jiwoong's chest.
Matthew stumbles into the room and climbs onto the bed, pulling Taerae's hand and holding on so tightly like he's going to disappear. Taerae thinks he might. He brings his knees to his chest and lets a few of his own tears slip as he interlocks their hands together and presses kisses to each finger.
It takes until sunrise for Taerae to end his crying. Jiwoong helps him to the living room as Matthew goes to the kitchen. He returns quickly with three cups of hot chocolate, one with whipped cream for Jiwoong, one with marshmallows for himself, and one with a shot of espresso for Taerae. They sit on the white leather couch quietly as silence overtakes the room.
"What do you think about moving to the states?" Jiwoong bites his lip and fumbles with his fingers, a rare sight. "I have some people you could stay with for a little while until you find a job. But of course, you don't hav-"
"That'd be great, Jiwoong. Thank you," Taerae interrupts with a light smile.
Matthew sighs in relief, "Thank god. If I had to wake up to the most heart-wrenching sobs one more time, I would've forced you to move there."
Hearty laughs kill the somber atmosphere as the two roommates look at him with faces full of indescribable emotion. Pride for Taerae standing up for himself? Guilt for not being able to do more for a dear friend? Even sadness for letting him go on his own? So many feelings swirled around in their stomachs like a tornado, yet, only one stuck out.
Hope. Hope for a better future, for a new beginning, for Hanbin.