Work Text:
Snow-covered vines were trembling with the winter's wind, little pieces falling into Jungwon's face from above.
He scooted his legs close to his chest, putting both sides of his long scarf on top of them.
The streets were full, restless—alive. Teenagers running as soon as the street's light turned green with their hands carefully buried into their coat's pockets, women enjoying a hot cup of tea inside a soft, warm bar, men smoking cigarettes as if nicotine would warm their bodies enough to keep standing right outside of their homes.
Everyone looked busy looking at the sweet nothings, the things that make life really peaceful and enjoyable.
Jungwon was sitting on the sidewalk in front of a pizza shop, hoodie firmly covering his hair and ears, earphones on. He was waiting for the bus headed to Busan to arrive, and even if the benches at the bus stop were free, he liked it that way. People stared, whispering to themselves or exchanging disapproving looks with the boy, but nothing of that really mattered. Jungwon wanted to be as close to the ground as he could, even if that meant freezing and soaking his butt and clothes.
It was Saturday, and Jungwon wasn't excited about heading back home. He had just attended the last day of school, Christmas holidays, welcoming every teenager and many other age ranges. He used to feel electric at the mere thought of drinking hot chocolate with coconut flakes sparkling on it, to entertain his mother with his thoughts and daily experiences while she knitted what she used to call "the lucky sweaters".
He used to express and receive love free of any worries, like any other child should.
However, Jungwon wasn't one anymore, and he had started to regret his past self's approach with age. "I can't wait to be an adult!" He would say, jumping as he sustained himself on the counter, his mother cooking and smiling fondly at him.
He now was a breath away from adulthood—if that's what really happens after turning eighteen—and contrary to what his pure self once believed, Jungwon missed being six, eight, ten, twelve years old.
Waking up having to make the bed as his most challenging task felt way too distant, as if it had never happened—as if it was only his mind projecting how he wanted things to be.
Jungwon loved his mother dearly, always did and always will. Even if she couldn't get out of bed, eat, drink or shower by herself, Jungwon loved her. Despite her hurtful words about how he had ruined her life by being the reason for her and his father's breakup, Jungwon still smiled fondly at her, even when all he wanted to do was bury his existence somewhere in between water and sand.
It was Saturday, and Jungwon was scared. He looked at the gray, foggy sky, a smile creeping into his violet lips, feeling the skin cracking in the middle.
When his eyelids started to fight the sleep away, Jungwon noticed his bus appearing in a roundabout close to him. With a jump he got up, the sudden movement sending shivers to his spine and knees.
He quickly looked around him, making sure to not miss any of his belongings before holding a hand out, sighing with relief when the bus finally stopped in front of him.
Jungwon greeted him with a smile as he got in, quickly scanning the seats available. There were three free rows at the very beginning and one in the middle. Without thinking too much about it he shrugged his shoulders, occupying two of the four seats available in the middle.
After sitting by the window, Jungwon lowered his hoodie, fluffy brown hair sticking out messily. With both hands he combed it, shaking his head before placing his head on the glass, arms tucked under his long coat, hands pressed on his armpits.
He appreciated everything that caught his eyes, caressed his ears or moved his mind, and a lot of these were also deep in his heart. Long bus trips, comfortable clothes and the delicate, seductive falling of snow were some of them, making Jungwon at ease.
With care, he placed his backpack and bags in between his legs, taking out his beloved sketchbook. It was thick, every page carefully prepped with a layer of black, sweetened coffee.
He didn't use it much, but every single line or stroke on it carried a part of Jungwon's soul. What he wanted to get out of his chest, what couldn't come out of him in no way other than drawing.
As he held his consumed pencil, pressing the tip of it on his nose in hope that inspiration would hit him, a boy appeared beside him, his breath short and heavy.
"Hi. Uhm.. can I sit here?"
Jungwon stood up, looking around. A maximum of three stops were made since he got on, yet there already were no seats available beside the one attached to his. It's not like Jungwon could make him stand up while he sat there comfortably.
He then nodded, shyly lifting his gaze to look at the boy better though his grown bangs as he sat down. He had dark red hair, the sides neatly trimmed, showing the black of his roots. His skin reminded Jungwon of a stirred cappuccino. His eyes were sharp, yet sweet. His body was covered with a large blanket, one that looked to be made of squares and patches of various colors stitched together.
It was the first time that Jungwon looked at a stranger and thought: "Oh, I wish I could bite him and find out if he's as sweet as he look."
Jungwon noticed that he was glaring at the boy only after he gave him a puzzled look. With a cough he turned around, one leg shaking relentlessly.
A light-hearted laugh resonated from beside him.
"Are you headed to Busan?"
A few anticipating looks from Jeongseong later, Jungwon replied.
"Yes, but how do you know?"
"It's been a year I think," the boy said, holding his chin with one finger. "I remember seeing you on this same bus for the first time."
Jungwon's eyes widened. He studied his face a few more times, but nothing familiar came out of it.
"Have we met before?" Jungwon asked, a half smile showing his dimples. "I'm more than sure I would've remembered you if that was the case."
The other shook his head. "I would always sit at the very back, while you were sleeping or writing in the front."
Jungwon turned his body towards him, amused.
"So, you've been observing me for a whole year without even thinking of approaching me?"
"Oh, believe me, I tried," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I just decided to wait for the right moment."
"And you think now it's good enough?" Jungwon asked, his voice low and cautious.
The other smiled, eyes turning into crescent moons before nodding. "I'm glad that I can finally see you up close."
Jungwon stared at him before turning the other way, cupping his face with one hand for a moment.
"Are you okay?" The other said, resisting the urge to place a hand on Jungwon's shoulder. "Did I say something wrong?"
He couldn't see it, but Jungwon was smiling. Something about those words that sounded sincere in his ears made him happy, even if from a complete stranger.
Once he calmed out, he straightened his back.
"Oh no, sorry, I just.. hum.. felt my head spinning."
The boy nodded before glancing at the sketchbook in Jungwon's lap. "Are you searching for inspiration?"
"That seemed like the best way to pass the time here," Jungwon admitted, looking out of the window. "However, at the moment nothing catches my eye enough to spend time on it."
"Oh, so you draw?" The boy asked before turning completely towards Jungwon, puffed chest and chin high. "Then how about me? Am I beautiful enough to boost your creativity?"
Jungwon placed both hands in front of him, forming a square. He moved it around, observing the boy.
"Well, you're more than beautiful," he admitted, pressing his lips into a thin line when he realized what actually came out of his mouth. After a short while, he laughed it off, grabbing the sketchbook near the boy's face. "But are you good at staying still?"
"Of course!" The boy replied with a little too much emphasis, a few people turning towards their direction. He then tilted his head, pressing a hand on his defined jawline. "I can do it for as much as you'd like."
Jungwon smiled before placing his back on the glass, observing his features, quickly sketching the basic shapes.
"So, since we're here, what's your name?" Jungwon asked, hand quickly moving on the page.
He waited, but there was no reply. When he lifted his gaze again, the boy was standing still, mouth closed as he looked in front of him.
"It's okay, you can talk," Jungwon reassured him, focusing on the sketch with a few glances at his muse.
"I'm Jeongseong," he whispered, looking at Jungwon. "Park Jeongseong."
At those words, Jungwon's hand freezed, his head slowly turning up. "Wait, Park Jeongseong from Sanlim High?'
Jeongseong's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, you know me?"
Jungwon nodded, gently tilting his head to the side before getting back to drawing. "Who doesn't? You're known for being one of the most promising young swimmers throughout Seoul."
"That's a bit of a stretch," Jeongseong said, waving a hand. "I could say the same thing about you."
"Why? You know my name?" Jungwon asked, head lowered on his work in progress.
"Of course I do. I had to know who was the only boy who stood out with his blue around a pond of red."
Jungwon's face softened as he scraped the pencil, shading the paper with a finger. "Do you like writing?"
Jeongseong tilted his head, trying not to move too much. "I do, but how did you guess?"
"It sounds like it," Jungwon said, looking at Jeongseong with a smile, getting closer to him to have a better look at his face. "You seem like the type to read, observe and create."
For a moment, time stopped. Maybe it was the warmth around them, the white canvas surrounding the streets, or the conversation he had been dreaming about for way too long, but Jeongseong felt his cheeks heating up.
"Okay, now stay still," Jungwon broke the silence between them, holding the sketchbook with one hand. "I'm almost done."
Jeongseong nodded, trying his best not to move. Jungwon was concentrating, sharing little smiles here and there as he covered the drawing, not wanting to ruin the surprise.
A ray of sunshine filtrated behind him, and Jeongseong focused on it, the dust that was floating behind them like a blessing.
Nothing could look frivolous next to the boy that silently stayed on his mind long enough to seep into him, making him crave the mystery of beauty.
Just when Jeongseong was about to lose his balance from keeping the same position for too long, Jungwon flipped the sketchbook, looking at him with excited eyes.
"Do you want to see it?" He asked, voice high and giggly.
Adorable, Jeongseong thought to himself before nodding, shifting on his seat with anticipation.
After a few false calls—Jungwon lifting the sketchbook before dropping it again with a grimace—Jeongseong had the drawing in his hands.
There was a boy crying as he smiled. His hair was darker and a little bit longer than his, and his chest was naked. In the background were vague people cheering with some cartoons saying "Fighting!", "You got this!".
When Jeongseong paid more attention to the overall portrait, his mouth opened, his eyes quickly looking for Jungwon's.
"This.." he whispered, speechless.
"That's you at the regional competition last year," Jungwon said with a proud smile. "I wasn't there, but that's how I imagined it based on what I've heard."
Jeongseong covered his face with both hans. "And here I thought you didn't know me at all…"
He heard Jungwon laugh, then a hand patting his shoulder. "Though up big boy. I don't like gossip or anything like that, but brilliant people are bound to reach your attention sooner or later."
His irises were completely black. Jeongseong tilted his head, handing back the now ripped page, brows furrowed.
"You want to run away, right?"
At those words, Jungwon's bright facade dropped. He focused on Jeongseong's hair. They were as warm as autumn, a few strands shifting on his face at any little movement he made. He looked calming like a book, one titled "The warmth of empathy."
After a while of silent glances, Jungwon settled himself properly into his seat, looking in front of him. "Define run away."
Jeongseong mirrored him, crossing his arms as he hummed. "You have a burden inside of you, fueling the desire to let it go. However, it's easier said than done."
Jungwon peeked at him. Jeongseong's eyes were closed, his face completely relaxed. He looked like a sculpture—delicate, yet strong and full of beauty and effort.
"I don't know if you're some sort of psychic and stuff, but you're indeed right."
Jeongseong only nodded, signaling him to continue.
"I'm happy when I go outside, see the world with my own eyes, but when I get trapped once again in my own head and everything that should be my home, I feel numb."
"Do you feel lonely?"
Jungwon's eyes started to feel glossy, his vision blurred. That whole situation didn't feel real, almost as if it was just a dream by a person created for his own comfort.
With a bit of uncertainty, his arms trembling, he reached for Jeongseong's cheek, pinching it.
"Ouch!" He whined, his head jumping back with horror as if he had just been bitten by a poisonous snake.
"So.. it's real."
Jeongseong stared at him with confusion, eagerly waiting for the other to explain himself.
"You're real."
The bus passed through a tunnel, and Jeongseong felt dizzy. His heart was beating rapidly, making him cover his chest with both hands, not wanting the other to hear.
He could see the boy's shadow getting closer to him, until he could feel Jungwon's breath tickling his ear.
"Hyung.."
Hyung . At that exact moment, Jeongseong realized how badly his subconscious had waited for that simple word.
All the sneaking out of school early to catch a glimpse of him, asking around if he was taken and who were his closest friends, taking the bus only so he could see him—it was all worth it. It didn't matter what happened next, Jeongseong could keep living a lifetime reliving every single sentence and expression that they had just exchanged.
When the light came back, the gray sky rose above them again. Jungwon let out a chuckle.
"Thank you for today."
Before Jeongseong could say or do something, the bus's speakers resonated in the vehicle.
"Next stop: Busan"
He watched as Jungwon stood up, goofily taking all of his stuff before walking towards the conventional door. He couldn't see anything but the vivid red of his hoodie accompanying his jumpy hair.
When he was about to look away, accepting his fate, Jungwon turned around, making Jeongseong stand up, alert.
"Let's meet again," Jungwon said with a wave, his smile warming Jeongseong's heart, even if just for a moment.
Jeongseong nodded, already craving for another moment with the boy. "I'll find you."
The bus stopped. Before the door could open Jungwon laughed—it was as sweet as cherry juice, as lively as a rose.
"I'll let you find me then."
Jeongseong waved him goodbye before noticing the drawing lying next to him. He took it, ready to frame it as soon as he was home.
And just like that, Jungwon started walking his usual path.
It was Saturday, and Jungwon's heart was now warm enough to look forward to the Holidays, and a handsome red-haired boy.