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Baek In-hyuk’s never been to a funeral before.
He considers himself lucky to have never had to see a dead person, or worse mourn a dead person, but right now, In-hyuk wishes he had a chance to practice this beforehand. If he had practiced this, so much would be easier. He would be able to handle the sight of the wrapped corpse in front of him. He would be able to properly stand in the hospital morgue instead of this slight sway that prompts Hyun-soo's attempt to steady him. He would be able to bear the loud cries of Sun-jae’s father behind him and the various questions of law enforcement officers to the right of him about his relationship with his best friend. He would be able to respond calmly to the forensic team’s question about the photograph on his friend’s table. He would be able to mourn without the cocktail of anger and resentment and grief that threatens to spill out in furious tears.
Then again, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Sun-jae on the table in front of him.
The white of his skin runs into the white of the cloth, making the cloth look almost yellowish in comparison. A media report now permanently seared into his brain gave his time of death as about six hours ago, so Sun-jae lay stiff as a board. His lips have turned to an unnatural colour, and when In-hyuk’s fingers accidentally collide with Sun-jae’s arm hanging from the table, he brings his hand back in the shock of how cold the body is. Everything about the scene is fucking wrong, with Sun-jae possessing the typical indicators of death for multiple hours despite his corpse possessing enough indicators of life that In-hyuk wants to shake the body and demand that Sun-jae just get the fuck up already .
Is this what you were trying to tell me , he wants to scream, why didn’t you tell me about this, you idiot. It’s probably his own fault anyway. He’s the one who ignored all the signs that are now washing over him in a decade and a half’s worth of memories. Wasn’t it only two weeks ago that Sun-jae showed up to work eerily silent, hand constantly twitching at his side, only to reach in when he thought no one was looking, and pull out that damn photo of him and the girl he never managed to get over? In-hyuk now wishes that he had torn up that photo when Sun-jae made that pilgrimage to her old house.
He was drunk, but everyone had been drunk so much in the beginning of their career that In-hyuk chalked it up to their success. It was only then, watching Sun-jae sob in front of the house, babbling apologies over and over again, that it first hit him that Sun-jae might be looking for something entirely different in alcohol. It was the first and the only time that Sun-jae ever went back to that house, but it was a clear indicator that Sun-jae was forever guilty for his inability to save his first love all those years ago. (Though, In-hyuk supposes, their debut single basically all but spelt out that Sun-jae would never be over Im Sol)
From there, their trajectory only went upward, but their friendship seemed to only falter, and break under the difficulties of their fame. Some days, Sun-jae would be almost normal, being his usual self, occasionally participating in life, and some days, he'd be fine enough that In-hyuk could wrangle him on a date. It would never pan out, but at least he’d show up. It was in one of these moments that a tipsy Sun-jae once put his arm around In-hyuk’s shoulders, pulled him in close, and told him the words that now pierced into his heart. In-hyuk-ah , Sun-jae Sun-jae had looked at him with the focus of a drunk person, when the brightest moment of my youth comes, I want it to be with you . They both had laughed after that, but In-hyuk, now at thirty-four, now holds onto that memory with an iron grip.
At some point, Sun-jae hit the slump that he was currently in, or if that photo was any indication, he had gotten worse at hiding the evidence of it from everyone else. The fights which had normally been sparse with the CEO of their company now became more frequent to the point where a good day became one where Sun-jae wasn’t giving everyone the cold shoulder for the majority of practice. Before when Sun-jae had looked at him with happiness, it seemed now that the only emotion that In-hyuk could draw out of Sun-jae was anger, and some days when In-hyuk was too weak, he’d settle for that. Whether it be deliberately picking fights or sneaking into his apartment for showers, In-hyuk was fine settling for Sun-jae’s anger because it meant that Sun-jae still cared about something . That anger, however, would often bleed into him, and slowly In-hyuk began to respond to Sun-jae’s anger with his own. Hyun-soo and Jay would try to diffuse the situation, but the cracks were already there. Eventually, Sun-jae stopped responding in anger, and stayed with the stony silence that defined the last two years of their lives.
He sinks to his knees. Behind him, he can hear someone shout his name, but all In-hyuk can think of is the way that he grabbed Sun-jae’s collar the night before, and how fucking pissed he was. How the last thing he ever said to Sun-jae was a curse about how selfish he was. He grabs the white sheet, and for a moment he balks at the healthy yellow of his skin against the white of the sheet. Proof of the life he still had and the death that Sun-jae was trapped in forever.
He can feel Hyun-soo and Jay pull him back up, and they both are crying now, loud sobs that echo in the morgue, but all In-hyuk can feel is the single tear that dripped down his cheek, an apology stuck in his throat that he can’t ever give.