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Sunwoo was still awake. In the pitch black dark, he lay there under the sheets wide awake.
Four days into the school term, into his last year at Huimang, and he was already having sleeping problems. Sunwoo liked to blame it on the unfamiliarity of the third year dorms; he wanted to pin down a reason for why his eyes couldn't stay closed for long enough.
Huimang wasn't the place to develop onset insomnia. Huimang Academy was this rich boy elitist school out in the middle of rural Korea, somewhere where the average person couldn't stumble across it and ruin the tennis courts. Huimang was an hour's drive from any train station, and any train that dared to come by took another hour to reach civilization. The school was in the middle of nowhere, which meant Sunwoo had to lie here with nowhere to run.
These bed sheets, the school insignia embroidered on the pillow case, made Sunwoo want to strip it all off. Throw it out the window and make the first years clean it all up in the morning. He'd take the slack from the headmaster. He'd deal with the consequences just fine. Sunwoo just wanted out.
This was his third year. He'd managed the first two just fine. Sunwoo had plenty of friends, really he befriended almost everyone in his class - it wasn't that hard, there were only twenty of them - and got along with each and every one of them. Sunwoo wasn't lonely, he didn't feel like he was missing out on any crucial teenage experiences. Juyeon would sneak in bottles of liquor almost every other weekend, they'd all drink in a nearby field like any other teenager would. No, Sunwoo wasn't lonely. He wasn't depressed or developing anxiety issues. Sunwoo was fine.
And maybe that was it? Sunwoo was just fine, he was perfectly content with coming back to Huimang and seeing all his friends again. Sunwoo was happy to be away from his sister’s nagging again, he was happy to return to those monotonous Latin lessons. Sunwoo was fine, but Haknyeon wasn't.
Four days of being back at school, and Haknyeon wasn't fine at all.
Sunwoo had latched himself onto Haknyeon the second they'd met in first year, at the welcoming ceremony the week before first year officially started. They'd boarded in the same dorm room these past two years, they were sharing again this year. Sunwoo wouldn't say he's an expert on Haknyeon, everyone's got their secrets after all, but he sure as hell knew more than the average person. Since the two had been awkward fifteen year olds they'd been attached at the hip. Wherever Sunwoo went, Haknyeon followed. Wherever Eric dragged Sunwoo off to, Haknyeon would be helping Sunwoo sneak out the window.
And Haknyeon had been fine these past two years. He'd been one of the happier boys, one of the ones who'd lighten the mood for everyone.
But now he just wasn't. He'd come back to Huimang with this different aura to him. Something sadder than Sunwoo thought was possible.
“How was your summer?” Kevin had asked on their first day back, after he’d been the first to unpack everything in his own dorm.
“Hey,” Sunwoo greeted. “It was really good. My dad took us to that beach resort I was telling you about.”
“The one in Hawaii?” Sunwoo nodded, with a wide grin, in response to Kevin.
“And you, Hak? Go anywhere nice over the break?”
Sunwoo should've noticed the change sooner when Haknyeon failed to reply right away. Usually he'd pipe up and interrupt before Kevin could even ask. Usually Haknyeon would smile wide and list off every activity from every day. Sunwoo practically felt as if he'd been with Haknyeon every summer just from the details alone. But Hak just sat there in silence on his bed, not even blinking. At first Sunwoo didn't think he'd heard Kevin at all.
“It was okay.” Haknyeon finally said, his blank stare not moving from the window.
And yeah, the view was good. Golden hour lit the dorm room perfectly, it made the rolling hills one of those things Sunwoo could watch and appreciate for hours. But that admiration was for quiet nights months into the semester, not when Kevin was asking about his summer. It was never Haknyeon who'd be the deadly silent one.
Really, Haknyeon hadn't said much these four days. He'd skipped dinner yesterday, choosing to sit up in the library rather than in the hall with the rest of them. Sunwoo felt the silence like a dead weight at the table. Haknyeon hadn't been lively in their literature class, he hadn't held his arm up high bursting to give an answer. Sunwoo should've noticed before. Sunwoo should have caught on when Haknyeon didn't send any emails after the second week of summer.
So now Sunwoo lay awake. His insomnia grew worse by the minute because Haknyeon wasn't his normal self.
The quiet sound reached Sunwoo's ears sooner than he'd like. It was barely audible but still managed to echo around the old room. Little hiccups, gasps for air between tears. The muffled sound of pulling up the thin sheets to cover up the sound. Sunwoo listened as Haknyeon's crying became more apparent, as Haknyeon struggled to hold it in with each sob.
That's what it became eventually. Sobs. Weighty sobs, wet tears filling eyes Sunwoo couldn't see.
Sunwoo couldn't help it. Really, he'd blame it on the insomnia if anyone ever asked. Only Changmin would ask, though, if he ever found out.
The two teenagers had only slept in the same bed once. Only once had they curled around each other, abandoning pillows in favour of bony shoulders and puffy cheeks. It was in their first year, just after Christmas, when Sunwoo contracted the worst flu known to man. Haknyeon didn't care if it was contagious or not, he just climbed into Sunwoo's bed like it was normal. He just hushed Sunwoo as he struggled to sleep, his own tears forming. God, he'd slept so well that night.
Sunwoo thought about it often. Thought about crawling into Haknyeon's bed and wrapping his arms around Haknyeon, stealing Haknyeon's pillow so he'd have to rest his head in the crook of Sunwoo's neck. He just never found the courage, or the excuse, to actually do it. These past two years Sunwoo remained confined to his own bed.
Not now, no, not anymore. Not as he softly stepped - avoiding the floor board that creaked - over to Haknyeon's bed pressed against the furthest wall from his own. Was this the excuse? It felt wrong, weird, to feel relieved that Haknyeon had finally given him the reason he'd been looking for. When the reason was this sad, Sunwoo felt like he was being a dick. He should turn around. Go back to his bed, pull up the covers again, pretend like this didn't happen when Haknyeon makes eye contact with him over breakfast.
Though Sunwoo doubted Haknyeon would even show up to breakfast tomorrow morning.
Sunwoo reached Haknyeon's bed. His knee pushed down on the mattress, it dipped with the extra weight. Haknyeon knew he was there, he'd known since hearing Sunwoo get up. Those sobs became suppressed, muffled, he tried to stop them completely as the fear of Sunwoo hearing it rushed through him. But nevertheless Haknyeon didn't protest as Sunwoo slipped under the sheets. He didn't push Sunwoo out of the bed like Hyunjae always did. But at the same time, Haknyeon didn't make any attempt to welcome Sunwoo in.
Sunwoo forced Haknyeon's arms to move, to wrap around Sunwoo's neck as he found a comfortable position for the both of them. ‘Comfortable’ turned out to be more ‘tolerable’ as Sunwoo finally came to settle koala style clinging to Haknyeon's side. Haknyeon lay still, stretched out straight like some sort of cadaver on a table. Rigid. Still. Too still. Sunwoo nestled into Haknyeon's shoulder. He didn't mind the tears that breached the crown of his hair. He didn't mind that Haknyeon's sobs were becoming louder again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sunwoo asked quietly.
‘It’ being whatever had taken the happy human embodiment of sunshine and replaced it with a Haknyeon who cried himself to sleep.
Because that's what Haknyeon did. These past four nights he'd cried himself to sleep. While Sunwoo had only heard it for the first time tonight, he'd seen the remnants of tears every morning. He'd noticed how puffy Haknyeon's eyes were. But Sunwoo didn't know what it was until now, until he was pressed against Haknyeon so close that he could feel the movement of ribs with each hiccup and gasp.
“I do.” Haknyeon said, though Sunwoo really hadn't expected an answer. “I don't know- I don't know how I'd say it.”
“Don't filter it. Don't bother with forming grammatically correct sentences, Hak. Just talk all you need. I'll listen.”
Sunwoo always thought he was a good listener. He just assumed it was this natural talent he'd picked up from living with his mother and sister gossiping over the dinner table. A habit he'd held onto as Younghoon yapped with Jacob or Sangyeon in the hallways. Sunwoo sure as hell had a lot to say, some things he probably shouldn't say, but ultimately he was more of a listener. His words had their time, their place, but his silence possessed more.
“I had this friend in middle school.” Haknyeon began, still choking back tears. “I don't know if I can even call us friends. If he'd want to be known as my friend. I can't think of any other word. ‘Acquaintance’ feels too impersonal.”
Haknyeon's body had relaxed just slightly. His hands relaxed into the grip on Sunwoo's t-shirt. He was still rigid, still in this awkward position. But with every word he let out the more comfortable he seemed to become.
“He was someone I knew. I knew him, and I didn't know him well, but I knew him. He sat on the desk next to me in my math class. The seats were randomly assigned, but we'd known each other since elementary school. My best friend was his childhood best friend - they'd grown apart over the years, but it wasn't caused by anything bad. People just grow apart.”
Sunwoo knew the feeling well. He'd met more than enough people who he thought would be around longer in his life, only for them to grow into different people. People he just didn't mesh well with. It was no one's fault. Never his fault, never theirs.
Admittedly, Sunwoo didn't know where this was going. He didn't know how a kid from middle school could bring out such a sad version of his friend. Was Hak being bullied back home? He thought Jeju was this beautiful paradise off the coast, but then he supposed bullying can happen anywhere.
“He died recently.” Sunwoo felt his own body become still, not expecting it. “Two weeks after school ended, my friend called and she told me. I guess it isn't so recent. I've always said it was recent, always telling myself in my head that he was still alive just days ago. That all this just happened now, not a few months ago. It's been two months.”
Haknyeon wasn't looking at Sunwoo. Not even in his direction. Sunwoo was, though. He stared up at Haknyeon softly, gently, with this look in his eyes that could only be sympathy. He'd hate for Haknyeon to think it was a look of pity. Sunwoo always felt like pity was never the right reaction to something like this.
“And I didn't even know him. All I do is think about him, every day, with everything I do, and I didn't even know anything about him. I wasn't his friend, I couldn't tell you anything personal about him. He liked sports, he played on the basketball team, but everyone in the school knew that. I can't tell you his favourite film, or his favourite colour, I don't know what his regular order in the cafeteria was. I didn't know him, and I don't understand why I'm thinking about him so much. I don't get why I'm so upset over him.”
“You're allowed to grieve, Hak. You did know him, he was part of your life. It's okay to grieve for him.” Sunwoo replied.
By now, Sunwoo's hand had come to encircle Haknyeon's. Mindlessly he drew invisible patterns into his friend's skin. Pressed against his knuckles in this act of saying ‘I'm here, we’re here’.
“What was his name?” Sunwoo asked.
“Raewook.”
Sunwoo almost regretted asking as Haknyeon's face scrunched up into this pained look. Like saying the name forced out another sob. More tears.
“He's the first person I've ever known who's-” Haknyeon cut himself off.
Suddenly, there was a change in position. Sunwoo was forced out of his koala hug by Haknyeon pushing himself to sit up against the wall. Sunwoo followed, crossing his legs as Haknyeon pulled his own limbs up under his chin. Arms wrapped around his knees.
“You hear of celebrities dying all the time. Or distant family members who you never knew, who you never had to go to the funeral for. I've cried over celebrities dying. I've felt sad for them, for their families. But it's different when it's someone you know.”
Haknyeon turned his head to face Sunwoo more. The side of his face rested on his knees. It looked far from comfortable. If Sunwoo had to describe it as anything, it looked like Haknyeon was trying to physically disappear from sight.
“It feels weird to say, but when some actor announces an illness you know somewhere inside of you that it might not end well. When they die, you kind of expected it. I didn't expect it with Raewook. No one did. It was sudden, and he was seventeen. Sunwoo, he was seventeen.”
Haknyeon said the last part in a more serious tone. It gave Sunwoo this sickly feeling, like his insides wanted to expel themselves from the thought of it.
There had been various occasions where either of the two teenagers would talk about how scared they were to grow up. They were both still seventeen. But eighteen was so close, it was on the horizon and they were walking straight towards it. Sunwoo had been open with Haknyeon about not wanting to be an adult, not wanting to take on those responsibilities. Haknyeon had told him of how scared he was to be eighteen, how scared he was to become this hyped up ideal that he could never live up to. Sunwoo knew, as Haknyeon emphasized his last sentence, how hard it must be for Haknyeon. It was hard to know that Raewook wouldn't get to feel the fear of being eighteen. He wouldn't ever get to be eighteen, but Haknyeon would.
“Have you spoken to anyone about this?” Sunwoo didn't know if he meant a doctor, a therapist, anyone in particular.
“No. No one. I told my parents when it happened, but I've never said how it made me feel. How it's still making me feel.” Haknyeon replied. “I don't feel like I can talk to anyone about it. My best friend from back home, I can't say anything about it to her. It feels wrong, because it should be her who's grieving. She should be the one crying, not me. She knew him so much more than I ever could.”
“Why not anyone here? We would listen, we'd let you grieve. No one's going to judge you for it.”
“I don't know what's been stopping me from telling you guys. Initially I thought I should, like it'd be easier because you never knew him. I wouldn't have to feel guilty about stealing your grief away and hoarding it for myself. But I just couldn't. Every time I thought about it, I just couldn't do it. And I can't even explain why.”
“You're not stealing grief away from your friend.” Sunwoo whispered. He moved closer to Haknyeon.
“But I am. Isn't that what I'm doing? I'm putting all the attention on myself, I'm making it all about me.”
Sunwoo reached his hands out. Slowly. Haknyeon allowed his face to be lifted into a better view; allowed Sunwoo to gently touch his cheeks and feel the streaks of tears. And Sunwoo just held Haknyeon there for a moment. A small, quiet moment. But a moment nonetheless where words didn't need to be spoken. Neither of them had to say anything to justify the moment.
“Grief is about you.” Sunwoo finally said. “It's all about you, it's all about how you feel. You need to process the loss, and you need to feel your own emotions to do that. Pushing it down, hiding it away, or keeping it locked up isn't going to help anyone. Grieving is something everyone does differently - it's personal, it's specific. But it doesn't have to be private.”
Sunwoo didn't know what grief was meant to feel like. Sure, he'd gone through the worst times of his life. He'd felt betrayal and distraught emotions. Everyone had. But he'd never known someone close to him that had died. He hadn't been in Haknyeon's position yet. He knew he would be, one day, it was inevitable. Sunwoo had felt the pre-grief, the grieving for future events that could only be dreaded and not yet experienced.
“It's just as much about Raewook as it is about you. There's no strict definition of grief, no step by step guide. You are going to cry for Raewook, you're going to lose hours thinking of everything he'll never do. And you'll regret not knowing him enough. But that's grief, and it's okay to do all that. It's okay.”
One day, Sunwoo suspected he'd grieve over Haknyeon. Not in the same way as there was grief for Raewook. No, instead Sunwoo knew he'd regret never telling Haknyeon that he was in love with him. Sunwoo knew there would be nights where he'd spend the hours sobbing instead of sleeping all because he hadn't said the right words to his best friend. There would be grief over losing a relationship Sunwoo could never have with Haknyeon. And while it wasn't death, while Sunwoo would turn eighteen and nineteen and twenty, it would still be a grief that was hard to go through. It was still grief.
“How long? How long will I feel like this?” Haknyeon asked, tears brimming in his eyes again despite Sunwoo gently wiping away the old ones.
Haknyeon had leaned closer to Sunwoo. He let his body be encased by Sunwoo's. A warm embrace that could only come about in the late hours of the night.
“As long as it takes. Maybe it'll always be a feeling you'll have, I can't say, no one can say. But no one ever really dies if there's still someone thinking about them. If your grief never goes away, if it never fades out enough for you to feel okay again, then at least Raewook has someone thinking about him.”
“I think he'd like that.” Haknyeon's arms came to wrap around Sunwoo's waist. “I think he'd want to be thought about.”
There weren't many more words after this. Nothing too substantial. Nothing more than whispers and soft hushing. Haknyeon still cried, but now he sobbed into the fabric of Sunwoo's shirt rather than the lonesome bedsheets. At some point Haknyeon let sleep take him, he let his eyes shut from exhaustion. Sunwoo made sure Haknyeon was the first to sleep. He made sure Hak had gone to sleep feeling better, lighter from the weight of it all. Sunwoo made sure he stayed awake to see Haknyeon fall asleep.
There had been a few words before Haknyeon drifted off. Words that Sunwoo couldn't keep, he couldn't latch onto them. These were words Haknyeon had said in a state of vulnerability, while he was fighting sleep and fighting grief. It wasn't the right environment for Haknyeon to know what he was saying - to actually mean it.
“Sunwoo, thank you. I knew I loved you for the right reason.”
And Sunwoo knew he'd grieve. He knew he'd lose Haknyeon one of these days. Maybe this year, when they graduate. Maybe in ten years when one of them gets tired of acting like everything is fine. When Haknyeon meets the right girl, that's when Sunwoo will grieve for himself. But really, it was the ‘thank you' that made Sunwoo's heart rip itself apart the most.
He could live with this. Sunwoo could live with the love for a boy that now only knew how to mourn.
Sunwoo would be fine. He'd get through it.