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On the day this universe was created, or when the first human stepped on Earth, Jungwon wondered what was their first word. How did language come into being and stayed eternal with human? Would a day come where language is forgotten? Maybe the foolish human would stay silent. They often chose the simplest option available, but was silence the best option? Jungwon disliked that idea. He would have no option when he wanted to communicate with Riki. All they had would be bird's chirps, ocean's waves, and leaves' end. The well would die in deafness. No echo would roar because the voice is buried within.
If their voice was buried deep within the dried out well, how would Riki understand him?
In case, just in case, that doom would happen, Jungwon has decided the way to express himself so Riki would understand. And in case, the day would come when they are still alive, Jungwon had started to have his graveyard of language—dedicated for Riki. First, Jungwon had compiled sea water in a contained glass. When something hurt him, Jungwon would have a sip of that seawater. And he would share it with Riki. He would let Riki drown in seawater between those chapped lips of theirs. Entangled, they would rip apart the violent waves. Jungwon would kiss Riki when the remnants of the drunk seawater remained; to let Riki know the taste of tears in Jungwon's stead, to let Riki feel the trench in his heart, to let Riki remember his vulnerability. This way, Riki would understand.
The second thing in Jungwon's graveyard of language would be pebbles. The flat ones. Jungwon never wanted to get angry when he was with Riki. But in case, just in case, he would be engulfed in the flame of rage, Jungwon would give Riki a pebble. When Riki had hold it tight, he would feel the vague heat and pain in his palm. Because rage was ever consuming. And Jungwon only wished Riki could understand. This way, Riki would be able to understand.
The doom of language sounded like a thing so far away. Jungwon hadn't thought about other emotions. Maybe excitement would equal a firework. Maybe sadness would resemble the gray clouds in the afternoon. Maybe fear would be like touching a foreign object, but this would never make Riki understand for he has been living with the very constant fear (therefore, Jungwon had to think about other options for fear). Maybe surprise would feel like the way their hands accidentally brush against each other, or the way Jungwon's heart beat afterwards (but Riki should not know this). Maybe disgust would look the same like the expression Jungwon's mother wore when she found out Jungwon could only seek love and pleasure in man (but Riki would never see it). Jungwon had a lot to think for his graveyard of language.
And in Jungwon's graveyard, he would want an orange flower on top of it. Jungwon did not want to die so soon. But in case, just in case, that would happen, he would like a garden to surround and to hide his graveyard. Jungwon did not want the space where his body would lie on eternally to become a foreign land for Riki. Flowers would always be beautiful and delicate to touch. Riki especially loved flowers for as long as Jungwon could remember. It was Jungwon's selfish wish to have a garden of flowers. The orange one should only be on top of Jungwon's graveyard. So, it would be easy to speak with Riki.
You come, Jungwon would say. And he would add, I have waited for so long! When Riki answered, Jungwon would tell him anything so the silence would not be that suffocating. Maybe something like; I am Jungwon. This is me. It shouldn't be that long after my death, right? There is an orange flower in my garden, right in front of you right now. And I pluck it in remembrance of you, Riki. I know you would come. And probably mourn for me. But the orange flower is here to keep you company.
When Jungwon thought about it, he gasped for air. It hurt him so much. Thus Jungwon stopped thinking.
"What is this, Hyung?" Riki asked.
Jungwon smiled at Riki's question. He guided Riki's hand to touch the petals, the stem, and the leaf. It is an orange flower.
"The petal is orange and it is the brightest orange you could feel, Riki. It has a healthy stem and the leaf is green as ever. No worm has had a bite on it," Jungwon explained it briefly, hoping it was vivid enough so Riki would understand.
Riki nodded to grasp Jungwon's explanation. Thinking that it was not enough, Jungwon decided to say something else. "It is beautiful." Like you.
Soon, slowly, a smile bloomed brightly in a garden named Riki. The sun, his eyes, shined an everlasting light. The leaves, his eyelashes, went up and down in a blink of an eye. The stamen of the flower, his pupil, reflected the sunlight—so bright that it looked like it could shine on its own. The garden was beautiful. And Riki was the most beautiful man Jungwon had ever seen throughout his lifespan.
"Thank you, Hyung!" Riki's voice gave a hint of excitement.
Jungwon said nothing but he smiled nevertheless. He only held Riki's hand tighter but not so hard, because the flower would crumble.
"I can see everything thanks to you. I am so happy."
"It's nothing."
Riki smelled the orange flower. And he smiled afterwards.
It was nothing, because the only orange flower in my garden was always reserved only for you.
It was nothing, because I got to see your beautiful smile unscathed.
It was nothing, because I got to be your eyes in this lifetime.
It was nothing, because I love you.
But those words were left unsaid.
Jungwon's voice was buried deep within the dried out well and Riki would never understand.