Chapter Text
The bleakness of the day came at no surprise to Sunghoon.
It’s a constant feeling he’d accustomed to since that day — dead mornings, dying nights, blurry afternoons. The only thing making this specific day so daunting, was the fact that he had returned to school after a five week leave.
He hadn’t really thought about what life would be like when he returned. Strange, seeing as thoughts of life, and its horrible opposer, were all that occupied his thoughts lately.
Sunghoon’s mother said it was normal. To ponder on the theoretics, and ignore the reality you couldn’t yet face, when faced with such life changing experiences.
If she spent a moment in his body, a second sharing his mind, Sunghoon’s mother would know that she was mistaken.
Reality seemed to be all he considered. A bleak reality, but reality nonetheless. However, whilst he wasn’t living in delusion, it still came as a shock just how warped his sense of it had become. He knew the world didn’t revolve around him, he knew that, he swore.
But seeing life go on in the crowded hallways, hearing conversations at its regular volume, smiles continue to be shared, burnt his heart with an intensity he couldn’t bear.
The world didn’t revolve around Sunghoon, but this was so unfair.
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At the feel of fingers tapping his shoulder softly, Sunghoon dragged down his earphones by the slightly tangled wires, and turned around slowly. He wasn’t up for a conversation, not with anyone, for the most part.
He knew his face looked dreary. Lips collapsed as controlling any muscles in his face took too much effort, eyes barely open, face empty. But even as he faced his close friend Riki, he couldn’t manage to scramble on a false expression of joy to see him.
Instead. Riki gave him a small smile, eyes filled with sympathy and love. He didn’t say a word, just opened his arms, offering his hyung a hug.
Sunghoon leant in quietly, shuddering slightly as the younger boy caressed his hair, closing the locker door behind them. Sunghoon really wanted to cry, but held on a little longer. His arms were light on him, as if he was still comprehending his presence, but with a tinge of physical protectiveness, encasing him in pure tenderness.
A few moments passed before he whispered into his ear, “I’m so sorry, hyung. But i’m glad to see you.” Riki’s voice was gentle and raw, touch careful, and sweet.
Sunghoon felt like a scratch on a CD as the two of them stood still behind a rush of teenagers, friends linking up for lunchtime, people lining up for the bathroom. Everybody was moving, talking, living. Sunghoon didn’t even feel real. Could he ever go back to that kind of existence?
He nodded into Rikis neck, eyes squeezed shut in order to keep the tears inside, greatly appreciative of him. However, any longer in his comforting embrace, his eyelids would not be much help.
Sunghoon clasped Riki extra tight for a final moment, as if storing the feel of his hug for later, when he eventually did cry, alone and depressed, before he let go. Riki didn’t seem to want that, but allowed Sunghoon to step back, letting him lean against his locker.
He could feel the cold of the metal through his white shirt, as he’d foregone his jumper and blazer today. The teachers didn’t say anything to him, he sort of wished they did. It would have given him a sense of normality, until the sound of chatter all around him continued to hurt, and he became confused at what he really wanted.
He wanted to be dress coded, because that is what would have happened five weeks ago. But he despised the regular bustling crowds around him. He wanted to go to school again, as he’d told his mother two days ago. But he hated that no one, mot even Riki, could heal a single thing in him.
The embracement of people he’d been longing to see felt pitiful, and not right.
The things he knew he wanted, he could not have.
It was so unfair.
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The agony did not ease, even as Riki got him to eat something. Riki had continued to stay silent, his arm around his shoulders as they walked down the stairs together, bringing Sunghoon closer to his side as the looks from people increased.
He couldn’t find the energy to care deeply about it, but appreciated not having to face them. He was mildly curious about what they thought, but that curiosity was quickly squashed down as he picked up on a few conversations.
“He looks rough.”
“What do you expect?!”
“I’m just saying, it’s been a month. Thought him and the others would at least try to move past it...”
“—nice person, didn’t really know him though.”
“–It must be so difficult…”
“Who?”
“…Sunoo’s brother…”
Sunghoon swallowed the bitter feeling in his throat, lightly tugging Riki’s jacket, to let him know he wanted to get to the canteen as quickly as possible.
Thankfully, it was just the two of them sitting together. Riki sat beside him, taking the last twenty minutes they had before the next class began to read his comic.
If it were five weeks ago, Sunghoon would have asked him about it. Tried to make conversation, because he knew Riki liked to talk about his interests, but only did so when prompted.
But it wasn’t five weeks ago.
And it never would be again, no matter how many prayers he sobbed in the loneliest parts of the night.
So he continued to take minute bites of the kimbap held against his lips, teeth barely grazing it. His gaze went unfocused, barely even reacting when someone bumped into him from behind, their embarrassed apology prompting no reaction from him. Sunghoon just sat there, like he was the only one the building.
After he finally finished a piece, he placed his chopsticks down, hands flat on the table either side of the plate. Back straightened up in some strange attempt at composing himself, like if he looked physically okay, normal, collected — he’d be it.
It didn’t work.
It did not work, and he wants to cry.
Sunghoon’s breath hitched, as the fleeting memory of a time he cried in this very canteen flew past him. He was there, rubbing his back through poorly concealed smiles, telling him not to cry over his mildly bad maths grade. Sunghoon still teared up frustratedly of course, despite knowing it was a bit silly. The other bought him something to eat of course, despite his laughing at Sunghoon’s brittle emotions. Sunghoon regretted not thanking him, still unamused he had laughed at him, grumbling pettily beside him.
He couldn’t thank him now.
He should have thanked him.
In the middle of a bustling cafeteria, he interrupted Riki’s reading session as he burst into uncontrollable tears. To give himself credit, he had managed to control them all day, pinching his palms and biting his cheeks. He hiccupped, frozen in his seat, back still uncomfortably straight, unsure what to do as the heat of tears dripped down his cheeks.
Riki put his comic down immediately, not even bookmarking it, and pulled Sunghoon into a hug, burying Sunghoon’s head into the space between his shoulder and chest. He collapsed in his arms, hands sliding off the table to grip onto his clothes achingly, soaking the dark fabrics with his pain. He hated himself so fucking much for not thanking him.
“What was that hyung?” Riki whispers, voice steady and calm.
He’d been mumbling through sobs, I didn’t thank him but they’d been muffled against his body. He clung on tighter, unable to answer him. Riki shushed him, petting his hair, chin over Sunghoon’s head and rocked him slightly to the side. The area the two of them sat at had quietened considerably, leaving his undying wails to be heard throughout the hall. But all he could hear was the overlap of his own too late thank yous, Riki’s hushed shh, it’s okay, it’s okay, and the all too familiar torrent of grief.
Like an unforecasted storm, the crash of a tray and plates, cutlery clanking to the floor, disturbed his misery. Tears continued to fall, but as a familiar voice presented itself in the form of an angered yell, his shudders and guttural noises stopped, as did the hand on his head, hiccups still bumping him up and down. He heard Riki murmur a quiet, oh no, before he raised his head, wiping his blurry eyes, sniffing, and trying to locate where Sunoo was.
No need to try.
He told him, in the way he pounced on another boy to the left of him, a few tables away.
Sunghoon’s eyes widened, taking in the sight of people with their phones out, some scrambling away from the pair, and Sunoo slapping the teenager with a resounding wack.
He rubbed his eyes, overwhelmed by this being the first time he’d seen Sunoo in three weeks — angry, aggressive, and so unlike who he’d known him to be his entire life.
A strange mirage of what could be fury, if you looked at him with no prior knowledge of who he was. As if his face was usually tense, eyes widened crazily at all times. But in a spilt second, the undeniable agony was obvious through the redness of his eyeballs, trembling lips and dark eye bags. That too, was a foreign sight on the happy Kim Sunoo, but it fit more than his seething surface.
“Talk about my brother again! Go on, I fucking dare you!” He screamed, pulling the boy by his collar when he didn’t speak, forcing him to face the consequences of whatever he said.
Sunghoon’s heart dropped to a place it did not belong, understanding this horrible person, the victim of Sunoo’s unseen wrath, had been talking ill of his best friend. His eye twitched, despite the tears, he ached for the chance to hurt him too.
“Hyung! Canteen again, now!” He turned to Riki, who talked desperately into his phone, face full of worry, eyes furrowed.
Sunghoon’s head hurt from the collision of his breakdown, suddenness of the situation, sound of yelling, and the confusion. Sunoo seemed to be getting angrier, and he lashed out, pushing the boy onto the floor, dropping down above him, grabbing the abandoned lunch tray beside him, raising it far behind him, ready to-
“Sunoo!”
He watched as another close friend, Heeseung, grabbed the tray, yanking it out of the younger boy’s hold and tried to pull him up from the ground, his chest heaving. Sunoo aggressively tried to run back to his position, harsh breaths echoing in the room, where everyone had silenced, staring at the mess of a state he was in. Sunghoon stared at him incredulously, as Sunoo’s eyes darted around the room rapidly, taking in the reactions of his peers, before he scrambled off the floor like a disrupted feline, pushing past Heeseung, who’s hands slipped off him in a failed attempt to ground his friend.
The canteen bubbled back into chatter hesitantly, the boy on the floor getting up, walking to a table angrily. Just then, an utterly miserable, sorrowful cry erupted from outside the hall. Followed by the banging of lockers, metal being hit echoing around everyone, that had Heeseung running back out, and Sunghoon turning to Riki, who’s face had finally dropped its composed mask, and he saw the dread present upon him.
Sunghoon didn’t have to say anything to him, for Riki to start providing some sort of answer.
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Weakly, Sunghoon dropped his school bag beside his bed, before hastily unbuttoning his shirt, and flinging it onto the desk chair left untucked that morning. Tugging off his trousers impatiently, he realised he had no energy left to change into anything, and snuggled into bed with nothing but his boxers and white undervest on, hair unkempt. The bed was nice and comfy, but his heavy heart didn’t allow him to sink into it cosily.
In his dim room, curtains closed, light just about seeping through above them, he thought over what Riki had informed him of.
”…hasn’t take a day off…”
“…lashed out…”
“…constantly spaced out…”
“…tried talking…pushed me away…”
He was in disbelief as the dots connected. It was difficult to comprehend how Sunoo had been going to school for the last five weeks, not even missing the day’s before or after the funeral. Whilst Sunghoon had fallen apart in solitude and silence, barely able to be around himself, let alone a school full of people who saw their tragedy as the latest hot topic. Why would he do that to himself? He felt sick at the further information, learning of all the spats, violent breakdowns, and scary periods of time he has seemed mentally unreachable.
Grief didn’t come with a how to manual, but surely it was common practice to take time off, to process your situation? Even Sunghoon had regret going back to school today. Sunoo’s instability wasn’t the only thing he’d learnt, because it turned out five weeks away did nothing to make life easier.
A terrifying thought entered his mind for a second. That he’d never get over this. He’d never be able to function properly again, never hold a conversation with his loved ones, never have energy past the minimum used to keep his heart pumping. The idea that his life would forever be a period of bereavement was horrifying. Did that mean Sunoo’s life would now just be a consistent downward spiral?
He wasn’t at the funeral long enough to have caught a single glimpse of him, too distraught at the sight of the coffin. His mother tried to reason with him, pleading to take a final look before his best friend was laid to rest, but the words themselves ripped out a hysterical cry out of him, and he’d passed out shortly after, missing the rest of the service. He didn’t know how he felt about that right that moment, but hoped he didn’t end up weighed down by guilt or regret. A cold, lifeless carcass was not what he wanted his last photographic memory of him to be.
What he definitely regretted, however, was not being there for Sunoo. The last time he’d seen him, pale faced, like he was the one stuck in the body that had died, trembling with the force of a tent caught in a blizzard. Their family didn’t have many relatives, so there was a chance Sunoo had sat all alone. He hated being alone; a fact that Sunghoon known for a very long time. His eyes welled up, hands clutching his side pillow and sniffled, knowing that not being there for Sunoo would haunt him forever. Would he have gone off the rails if he’d just reached out? That wasn’t fair to him. The urge to lurch out of his bed, barge into his home, and cuddle his woes away dangled above him enticingly, but the shame left him to rot alone in his bedroom, like he’d been doing for weeks already.
He thinks about calling him, but his body can’t seem to move.
Maybe that’s an excuse.
He isn’t quite sure.
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“Sunghoon!”
Wonyoung’s voice was soft, as she called out from the back table. Sunghoon walked towards her, and if she didn’t know him well enough, it would look like he didn’t hear her. Wordlessly, he sat at the stool beside her, eyes flickering to her mouth as she gently smiled at him.
“It’s a chill lesson today, we’re just working on our collages, okay?”
“Mhm.”
Her eyes crinkled with another smile, and she turned to her work, swashing a thick tattered brush into her watercolour palette, a little messily.
“Oh! Wait, I didn’t get your collage, give me a second!” She set her brush down, leaving her seat. He felt a don’t bother slide down his tongue, but parting his lips seemed too difficult today, so he stayed silent.
She came back over, looking perplexed, “I couldn’t find it?” Turning robotically to look at her, she continued, “Sorry Sunghoon, did you take it home?”
He just nodded, turning back to face the front, breathing slowly.
Her eyes darted around awkwardly, the sound of her shoes squeaking against the floor as she squirmed around bothered him a little, but it wasn’t like he was going to say much. She sat back down, a little hesitant this time with her smile. It stayed gentle, nonetheless.
He sighed, exhausted from being in the presence of people, even a friend. He only came to school today to see if he could catch Sunoo, apologise, and talk to him. They had a lot to discuss, but he’d not seen him in the class when he’d walked in, and Sunoo would rather skip than arrive unfashionably late, have eyes all over him, usually. He didn’t doubt that feeling had intensified.
Trying to prepare himself, he pried open his lips, opening and closing his mouth, short breaths coming out, biting off dried lip skin, before he finally pushed out a,
“Wonyoung?”
Her head snapped to him, like he was a baby who’d spoken his first word. She shook off the obvious shock, and hmmed? at him to go on. Despite how hoarse his voice was, he still threw out the words on his mind.
“Sunoo?” He cleared his throat, preventing a voice crack, “Um, seen him?” Mentally berating his inability to form a coherent sentence, he waited for Wonyoungs response.
“Oh.” She turned to her collage, uncapping an ink pen and going over light pencil sketches, looking uncomfortable at his question. “Not since yesterday, but I also just haven’t talked to him in a while. Have you not?”
“Uh, no. But, why uhm, why haven’t you…? He’s been in school right?”
“Yeah, he has, but he hasn’t, well, he hasn’t been easy to approach.” She concluded, still drawing.
He simply nodded, the urge to find the boy increasing ever so more. For the next few minutes he simply watched her, mixing hues to fill in the gaps between her abstract images, losing himself in the strokes and stipples. She began to hum the tune of a melody foreign to him, but it flew prettily into his ears, leaving no reason to complain. In those couple of minutes, he tried not to think about Sunoo, or five weeks ago. Just took in warm tones, distorted human anatomy, and a genius at work.
That’s why it took some effort from Wonyoung to divert his attention from thoughtless wandering, to reality. He looked to see her point in front of him, and turned his head to see Heeseung walking towards him.
“Sunghoon, you need to come with me.” He whispered, reaching to grab his mostly empty bag from the floor, swinging it over a shoulder, before he could reply, or even process the statement.
“What?” Sunghoon questioned dazedly, looking at the spot his bag once took space up.
“Your teacher knows, look, Sunoo-“
Eyes widening, he lurched up, facing him.
“-is not okay right now, he hasn’t been, but, you’re here now, thank god, and I—he just really needs you right now!” Heeseung whisper-yelled to him, desperation woven around the words, bordering hysteria as he ran a hand through his hair nervously.
He nodded his head frantically, stumbling off the stall, about to follow him out, before turning to Wonyoung, who wasn’t pretending not to be curious, and gave her a side hug. Not leaving it to linger, he sped walking out of the room, and towards the boy he loved most in the entire world.
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Anxiety bounced from wall to wall in his stomach, as Heeseung led him closer to Sunoo. Neither of them had said a word to each other, but as they’d walked down the stairs, Heeseung grabbed his hand without letting go, offering and taking comfort. Heeseung was practically Sunghoon’s big brother, and another person he’d so dearly missed. Maybe he would convince his clamped mouth to open, so he could thank him for caressing his hand before it was too late and he left with the wind too.
Heeseungs voice suddenly interrupted his melancholy.
“When I left him…he had this, strange, clouded look in his eyes.” Heeseung explained, talking in a confused and quiet voice, making him furrow his eyebrows as he continued, “Like he wasn’t there, or was, but just stuck in his head.” He ran a hand over his face, pinching his lips, “He’s been doing it so much. I hate it Sunghoon, it’s not him.”
He suddenly felt sick, close to throwing up his stomach and guts. Everything from what he’d heard, what he’d seen, about Sunoo had been such a disfigured caricature of him. None of this was him, and he knew why, but didn’t at the same time. Curse grief, for trapping people in a spell, tilting peoples worlds, their livelihoods, turning them into thing’s they weren’t, things they should never be.
Their steps came to a halt, as Heeseung stopped the two of them in front of an eerily silent classroom. Reluctantly he let go of his hand, before turning to Sunghoon, placing hands on his shoulders.
“I know I told you what he looks like, but it’s nothing compared to seeing it. Just, don’t panic alright?”
His words only made Sunghoon panic more, but he just nodded at him, grabbing the ends of his shirt to fiddle with them, as he gave him a tight lipped smile. Then, he slid the door open, and the two of them walked in.
Sat slumped in the middle of the classroom, he took in the back profile of Sunoo, who didn’t show any physical signs of acknowledging their presence. A part of him hoped Heeseung had overdramatised the state he was in, that the sound of footsteps, talking outside and the door sliding open, would have him turned around and curious.
But he sat still, as Sunghoon stood at the door.
It shut behind him, he remained still, and Heeseung sighed out a slight shudder, walking to the desk Sunoo was sitting in, and crouched down so he had to look up to see him.
“Sunoo,” He called softly, voice soothing and kind. “Sunoo?”
The name left his mouth a couple more times before he stood up, legs slightly shaky, and Sunghoon forced himself to move towards them, refusing to leave Heeseung to deal with this alone.
He wouldn’t be running anymore, he told himself, as he took hesitant steps until Heeseung had backed up, and he took his spot instead. Sunghoon took a deep breath in, before finally looking up, and his heart stopped.
For as long as he had known Kim Sunoo, his eyes began and remained the most expressive part of him. He was naturally animated, expressing all emotions with his entire body, but his eyes always told what he tried to conceal.
5 weeks could really change a lot.
Sunoo's eyes were open, pupils facing the same direction, but clearly not looking. The redness in them was apparent up close, Sunghoon almost flinched from fear, as the veins could have been mistaken for having burst open already. They were glazed over, like a plastic sheet covered in condensation had been laid over his eyes. Not a muscle in his face seemed to have an ounce of active strength. There was something cold, freezing him in place, his fingers spread out with zero mobility in them.
Sunghoon knew that Heeseung had warned him, but how could he look at such a despairing sight without doing anything? He felt his lips wobble, Sunoo’s expression triggering his hypersensitivity, and brought a hand to cover them. Hesitantly, he placed the other hand on the boy’s shoulder — still nothing. It was light contact, so he pressed down, trying to get any reaction out of him. An eye twitch would do.
“Gently, Sunghoon-ah.”
He sniffled, and turned around to see Heeseung sitting on one of the tables, watching Sunoo with broken doe eyes. He looked at Sunghoon, “When this first happened, I freaked out like an idiot, and shook him by the shoulders.” Heeseung looked disappointed in himself, “It snapped him out eventually, but he was terrified and confused.” His voice cracked at the last words, a pain in his eyes that mirrored Sunghoon’s, who closed his eyes like a child trying to pretend none of this was real.
“I read up online, I think he’s going through some form of dissociation. We need to gently talk to him and coax him out.” He sighed deeply, shrugging, “I don't even know what dissociation means for him, he refuses to talk about it. He could be hearing us right now, or he might not be mentally conscious. I don’t really know. So, just be careful with him.” His eyes softened at the way Sunghoon removed his hand, bringing them to his thighs, “I know you will.”
Swallowing back his cries, he turned back to Sunoo, who remained the same. With a wobbly excuse for a smile, he reached for his hands, uncharacteristically chilly, and began to speak the most words he had in a while.
“…I haven’t, uhm, I haven’t been able to sleep much. I think–” His voice shook, and he quickly closed his mouth, trying not to squeeze Sunoo’s soft hands. They’d lost their warmth, but they were still so soft. He blinked, trying to muster up the words again, but every try was met with a ghost of the words he planned in his head. With a surge of memories, a deep longing for a happy nostalgia, he whimpered out his sentence, “I think I finally miss your herbal teas.”
He couldn’t do this.
Letting go of his hand, he fell off his kneeling position, sitting back with his head in his hands and silently cried. The room was quiet, bar his choked sobs, and Heeseung’s upset shuddering as he leant down to press Sunghoon’s rocking body to his side. He wished a sound would come from Sunoo, but beside the clock ticking, there was nothing else.
“I’m going to try again.” Heeseung said, lifting Sunghoon’s head from where it was borrowed, as he wiped his tears away. Heeseung held Sunghoon’s face in his hands, smiling affectionately at the sad eyes that faced him back, like he was desperately trying to get a message across — It’s okay, I'm here now. I know it’s been hard, I know it will continue to be. Neither of you are alone anymore. Hyung is here.
Sunghoon watched Heeseung pull out a chair, sitting close to Sunoo, but allowing Sunghoon to still see their side profiles.
“Can you hear me Sunoo?” He began, rubbing circles into the back of his hands as he clutched them, “You feel that? My fingers are warm, aren’t they?” He went quiet for a minute, continuing to rub tenderly. Sunghoon had stopped crying, instead sat with his pitiful heart, praying to see light in Sunoo’s eyes soon. He wondered how Heeseung could be so level headed. “Sunoo-ah, don’t you think your hands are too cold? Should I warm them up?” Gentle. “Sunoo?” So gentle.
Without realising it, Sunghoon had started rubbing the sides of his own arms, seeking out comfort as his heart ached in its place. He did not wish to interrupt Heeseung, but he needed someone by him desperately. He had underestimated the extent of his starvation for touch till the day before and today. How had he isolated and deprived himself of this for four weeks? Every second without a careful hand caressing his hair, or holding him tight, relit his grief. A strike of sorrow hit him, as his thoughts wandered to the embrace from a boy he’d never experience again. The things he would do for one more hug, the places he’d go, the mountains he’d cross on foot. One last time.
Heeseung gasped, a mixture of surprise and happiness in his next words, “Good Sunoo! Good, that was so good, do you want to try that again?”
Sunghoon looked at the pair questioningly, trying to figure out what he had missed, till his eyes fell on Sunoo’s fingers. This time, they were ever so slightly holding Heeseung’s back.
“Sunoo, can you hear me? You can, can’t you?” His fingers trembled, curling again, “I’m so happy you can hear me, Sunoo. It’s okay, you don’t have to speak. Just try look at me now, okay? Can you do that for me Sunoo?” A quiet huff of air left his lips, and Sunghoon nearly burst into tears again. As small of a noise it was, Sunghoon had learnt that even the littlest signs of life measured greater than anything.
Heeseung sounded emotional, as he shuffled the chair closer, knees touching his, “I know it’s hard, I know. But please look at hyung, yeah?” He squeezed their hands together again, drawing attention back to their differences in temperature, “How warm are my hands? I think they’re less warm now, but I can’t tell. Can you tell hyung please?”
Sunghoon gasped this time, pinching his own clothes as his eyes welled up, when Sunoo’s airy eyes moved to look at Heeseung’s face. The glaze was still there, but his eyelashes fluttered with movement, and he could see the rise of his breathing clearer.
Heeseung inched closer, “Sunoo, can you try tell me what you see?”
A longer moment of silence fell over them, but Sunghoon imagined it was taking everything in Sunoo, to follow what Heeseung was saying. He wondered if he knew he was in the room, if he’d heard his cry over herbal tea earlier, or if only now had his consciousness returned. Did he think Sunghoon had left him to sit alone with his grief once again? He looked over at the clock, to see half an hour had passed. The bell was going to ring in another half hour, and Sunghoon feared both Sunoo not waking up, if that was even the right way to describe it, and what would happen afterwards. He wasn’t sure any of them could return back to class after this.
Sunoo’s breathy, emotionless whisper of, “Hyung”, was like a surprise beacon of the sun’s warmth, in the middle of a cold winter. Sunghoon hadn’t felt many good emotions in so long, but the euphoria of hearing his Sunoo’s voice, drowned him till he was soaking in repose and consolation. Unbridled waves of relief, flowed through his body. He could tell the same was happening to Heeseung, whose tense posture had calmed down considerably. Heeseung whipped his head to the side, burying it in his shoulder to release a long, shaky, and relieved sigh.
“Hyung? You see hyung?”
Sunoo blinked slowly, a wetness in his eyes growing, contrary to the lack of soul in his voice, “Hyung.” He blinked again, and Heeseung no longer contained the droplets in his own eyes, allowing them to freely travel down in a painful concoction of sadness and joy, when Sunoo spoke again without being prompted, his words embroidered with the closest thing to peace he’d felt, “‘S warm.”
Sunghoon thought he heard Heeseung’s heart break at the words. His eyes widened, and he brought their tangled hands close to his mouth, affectionately rubbing his chin against it, and feebly choked on relentless tears. After regaining his composure, Heeseung spent the next couple of minutes alternating between asking Sunoo what he saw, if his hands were still warm, and biting his lips to halt his emotional noises from the exit.
By now, tears were occasionally dripping from Sunoo’s semi-clouded eyes, but his hands were holding on far stronger. Heeseung had tried to loosen them before, but a pained cry, albeit muffled due to his mouth being slightly parted, stopped him. Heeseung guessed he was mostly relying on their touch, to know that he was not alone.
Those words made a part of Sunghoon choke, and suffer, as he remembered once more, that he’d left Sunoo alone. Why had Heeseung trusted Sunghoon to be gentle, when it seemed like all he was good at was burning already painful wounds? Watching Heeseung do what he should have done all those weeks ago, he felt more useless than ever before. More selfish. Heeseung was hurting too, but here he was, being the epitome of gentleness for Sunoo. What good was Sunghoon for him? What good was the love he had stored in his heart, that he’d been adding to everyday for half his life for Sunoo, if he’d left it to rust when he needed it given to him the most?
Looking away, he buried his head into his knees, balling up his fists and gritting his teeth, trying not to rub his own arms, because he didn’t deserve the comfort he’d unfairly denied. He clenched his eyes shut, listening to Heeseung’s encouragement and Sunoo’s slow but sure responses.
“What else do you see?”
“The chalkboard…words are still on it.” Sunoo was monotone, but with every answer, he added more detail, showcasing his awareness returning.
“Yeah? What do the words say Sunoo? Can you tell me?”
He breathed, but there was no response.
“Sunoo? Are you okay? Don’t worry, tell me something else you can see.”
“The desk. It’s messy.”
“It is? Thank you for telling me, do you wanna tell me anything else?”
Sunoo made a noise of struggle, breath picking up. Sunghoon stayed looking down.
“What’s wrong? Tell hyung what’s wrong, i’ll help you, Sunoo.”
“It’s messy.” Sunoo whispered, the monotonous voice from before remaining even as it trembled, tinged with a depressed longing Heeseung and Sunghoon both immediately understood, and felt too.
Heeseung mumbled, obviously trying not to break down, “Yeah, it’s messy, oh–“
At Heeseung’s groan, Sunghoon looked up through his blurred vision, to see Sunoo had slumped over and onto Heeseung, his body bent uncomfortably. For a second, his body went cold as he thought the worst, that Sunoo had passed out or even—
Stop.
He watched intensely, hovering off the floor, ready to jump into action and help at Heeseung’s command or any visual cue. However, Sunoo had simply been exhausted, and fell into Heeseung’s comforting lap. The older boy grabbed under his arms, fixing his posture. “Are you with me now, Sunoo?”
The boy’s eyes opened and closed, similar to how they would when woken up from a nap. Breaths steady, he slowly regained full awareness. It looked peaceful. Like nothing had happened, like he’d really only been shook awake, groggy and tired. Sunghoon both envied it, and sympathised. Because like he had woken up every morning for the last five weeks, the remembrance always hurt the most, after those few seconds of ignorant serenity.
“Heeseung hyung?” Sunoo murmured in confusion, movements drowsy as he looked around himself.
“We’re at school, Sunoo-ah. It’s just…” Heeseung wasn’t sure how to ease into the reveal that Sunghoon was with them too. This did not go unnoticed, but Sunghoon wished he’d be allowed to slip out without being seen, as cowardly as it was. “us, in this classroom right now.” Heeseung ended vaguely.
“Why aren’t you in class?”
Heeseung swallowed, looking nervous as he softly explained, “It happened again Sunoo. You…” He pursed his lips, before muttering out almost silently “…went away.”
He paused the hand that had been rubbing his eyes and cheek raw of its weeping, and lowered it down as a look of thought replaced his dreary face. He didn’t make eye contact as he spoke. “I don’t remember.”
Heeseung exhaled, and nodded. “That’s okay Sunoo.”
It wasn’t, but some things were best kept for discussion at a later time. After all, as Sunghoon let out a louder than usual breath, Sunoo turned his head in surprise, and froze at the sight of his reddened face, and the eyes that mirrored his own grief.
Sunghoon had overthought every possible scenario, some possibly egged on by the angered state he’d seen Sunoo in yesterday, mixed with his personal hatred and fury at himself.
Maybe that’s why Sunoo’s next move left him stuck in his place, on the wooden floor.