Work Text:
October 4th, 2022
The person in front of Wooyoung wore a brown crocheted sweater. Brown was Wooyoung’s favourite colour, yet that wasn’t the reason he stared so intimidatingly at the clothing. He had no reason at all quite frankly. He was into fashion; he usually would comment on it, make a note in his mind to get one himself, but today Wooyoung didn’t see the sweater.
His thoughts were going in circles, not quite sure where another lap started or ended. Ongoing. The pen between his fingers was twirling with his practiced movements. School had always been boring enough to learn this type of skills.
Then he stopped.
His eyes squinted down on the person’s back. It was not because of something his history professor uttered, although European history was his favourite. No, his mind had finally come to a realisation.
“Such bullshit”, he murmured, frowning. It was quiet enough to not disturb the lecture but loud enough to earn a weird look from his colleagues at the side.
Wooyoung sighed. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, ran his fingers full of silver rings through his brown, wavy hair before letting them wander to the newspaper situated on his desk.
His fingertips started to tap a nervous rhythm while his eyes flew over the text again. He couldn’t leave this alone, could he? No, he definitely couldn’t. This was his field. He knew his stuff like no other, the professors had already spoken promising things about him.
‘The decaying grass – some remnant of fields – swayed in a breeze. A mixture of the south and the north as it couldn’t decide if it brought warmth or coldness. It was fresh, yet it felt sandy to the touch. Paco wiped the sand off on his pants. It had gathered on the stone he was working on. Francesco huffed next to him, pulling the orange from its roots. “Orange plague”, he cursed as he threw it to the side. His beard had the colour of the sand, confirming its nature. Paco grumbled, “Eat it, if it’s in the way.” Francesco belted a laugh, “Is that how you solve your problems, brother?” Paco eyed the vegetable with something akin to longing. This sickening orange… He hadn’t eaten in so long…’
It was a prologue to an article about the Olympic games which took place this year. A creative approach – Wooyoung had to admit – as the writer C.S. had started lining out a novelistic introduction from slaves working on the first colosseum to the Olympic games nowadays. However…
“C.S. …”, Wooyoung mumbled, tapping his fingers against the paper with more force, “Fucking hell.”
“Shh! Quiet! If someone wishes to disturb my lecture they shall leave the study facilities now!
Wooyoung ducked his head, feeling caught, but when he lifted his head, the professor let his eyes wander. He didn’t know it had been Wooyoung. His surrounding classmates gave him intense looks though – he knew for the sake of peace he should keep quiet now.
He clacked with his tongue, closing the newspaper. This was an aspiring writer? C.S.? Wooyoung followed this newspaper since he started in college, had gotten an issue pressed in his hands on his very first day and had started collecting them like a religion. And with that came C.S. – one of the writers who left a column on one of the last pages every week. Wooyoung started to fall in love with the way he wrote, the way he handled words like an artist did with his pencil. It fascinated Wooyoung, putting him in awe often enough. But historical misinformation irked him. He couldn’t read this without having to wince. His friends would beg him to stop being such a history nerd, but Wooyoung was not good in many things, so he prevailed in this one thing that he was good at.
The clock ticked its way, Wooyoung wasn’t as much with the professor as he should, because deep in his head he already started to phrase his very own column. He knew he couldn’t rest without doing something. He put the black leather strap of his shoulder bag over his head before taking his newspaper and book to leave for his friends. Usually they would sit together – if Wooyoung ever came early.
“I don’t like this face”, Yeosang said as a greeting while putting his stuff in his backpack. “Is this still about the writer?”
“It is very much still about the writer”, Wooyoung huffed, folding his arms. “I can’t let that sit on myself.”
Mingi had his things already put aside in a tote bag, making it swing back and forth in a way it hit some of the other students lightly. “We can identify him and then you can complain. You know, it should be quite easy to identify him when we know his initials.”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes, leading the way out of the white cardboard room. There were straps of wood splattered around but it was obvious that the building fell victim to modernization. “I don’t wanna meet him in person, that’s not the point.” The murmur was quiet, yet something in his stomach lit aflame.
“You really can’t just leave it, can you?”, Yeosang asked as he held open the door to the campus outside.
“I can’t. You know that.”
“See that’s why I love you”, Mingi cackled, “You have unlimited history knowledge and no fucking filter-“
“Hey!”, Wooyoung shoved Mingi who stumbled down the stairs, catching himself quite elegantly though. The blonde tall boy turned, smirking as he nearly was eye to eye with Wooyoung although he still stood three steps higher. Wooyoung could feel the blush coming, embarrassed by his height one more time as he descended quickly.
“I am your textbook and your AI – I know. Be grateful I help you for free.”
Mingi pretended a dramatic gasp, “I am always grateful, what do you mean, man.”
“I know”, Wooyoung smiled and it felt all so warm and light with his two best friends.
“But for real, Woo. Just leave it, you can’t change it anyways.”
“Oh, I can”, Wooyoung beamed with folded arms, already a plan formed in his head, “C.S. writing a political statement? Fine with me. Writing columns about the latest trend in music industry? Acceptable. Arguing about health and lifestyle? Sure – do it. He can even take a deep dive into the world of romance and fantasy novels for all I care. He can write. He had proven often enough that he can. But oh… historical misinformation? Starting an article about the Olympic games with such a magical approach was a fantastic idea. But if you use history, use it right.”
“You are unbearable, do you know that?”
Wooyoung puffed out some air at Yeosang’s remark, the strand in front of his face taking flight before settling on the tip of his nose again. He ran his hand through the brown to get the tickling out of his face. His blonde highlights were fading already. Maybe he should redo them again. But getting a hairstylist for a fair price was nearly impossible and he would never trust his friends with some bleach and a brush.
“I mean this in the kindest way – you are such a nerd”, Mingi scrunched with his nose, the round glasses wandering up the bridge of his nose. Wooyoung gave him a slight elbow, but didn’t reply – just shook his head.
The three friends walked over the campus complex. The building had a grey stark contrast to the red colours of autumn, leaves crunching as they walked over the paths. Students almost ran into each other, nose deeply hidden into their phones; or laughing in a friend group. A lone man on a bicycle was trying to get through the patches of students, which were packed with backpacks and coats.
Wooyoung felt the tip of his nose going cold while the rest of his body went hot in the late summer sun. What chaos of a season.
Yeosang looked over to Wooyoung, “So, you will find that C.S.’ social media and then tell him he was wrong?” The friends took a halt as Mingi started to rummage in his tote, probably for some spare coins for his beloved snack machine.
“No way”, Wooyoung flicked the annoying bangs back, tugging them to his ear, but it wouldn’t stay with the wind. He sighed, “I will write a column for next week’s issue and show how he was wrong.”
Mingi’s coins fell to the floor, vanishing in the dead leaves.
“Now I know who should never be my enemy”, Mingi groaned as he crouched to the floor to pick it up, Yeosang and Wooyoung helped, “You are so evil.”
“Ah, shush”, Wooyoung made a face as he touched the wet leaves trying to find the copper in-between.
“You are publicly going to humiliate him”, Mingi said, but Wooyoung just chittered.
“Oh, come on, no one reads those newspapers. And he already did by writing that nonsense.”
Mingi laughed, “I guess?”
They all got on their feet again, another bicycle ringing its bell as they stood in the midst of the way, almost blocking it all. Wooyoung pulled Yeosang closer – a whirlwind dashing past. “Asshole”, Wooyoung cursed after him, watching the guy with black hair just raising a hand for some kind of wave or thank you.
“Anyways, it won’t be as evil. How about… a column about Dutch history, and then we just see if he will react on it in the issue after that.”
They left the campus, the big iron portal marking the exit. Since Wooyoung had to take another bus than them, they awkwardly stood in front of the entrance to chat once again. Like every day.
“Why are you so obsessed with this writer?”, Mingi asked.
“It’s not obsession, but admiration.”
Yeosang rolled his eyes, “Call it whatever you want.”
It made Wooyoung chuckle. He may be the only person reading the newspaper published by his university, but they had the most random topics and good information for newcomers – which was great back when he was new here.
Mingi ventured to the side where the vending machine was, putting in some coins and punching in the numbers of his desired snack.
“If I wouldn’t know better, I would say you have a crush on this C.S.”, Yeosang said as he watched Mingi getting desperate as the machine didn’t do as he wanted, swallowing his money without giving out the product. Wooyoung put his hands in the pockets of his coat.
“I don’t crush on people who do their research badly.”
Yeosang looked into his bag, reached for his wallet and already opened it to give Mingi another pair of coins when Wooyoung took a step forward, kicking against the machine with quite some force. A rumble appeared before the candy bar fell out with a ‘ching’ sound.
“Aye, thanks”, Mingi showed his thumb up with some big eyes and got the bar. Wooyoung just shrugged before pushing his glasses up again. He felt like they always slipped but his optician was convinced that they were a perfect fit.
But also, why would Yeosang’s words make his stomach feel so… funny? His cheeks were awkwardly heating. There was a sense of excitement for these newspaper issues every week. He caught himself forcing to read the whole thing when deep down he knew that he just wanted to browse to the end-section and read C.S. new column. He had fallen in love with his writing. There was no doubt. He had a way with words that left Wooyoung speechless after, no matter the topic, it felt like he was taken through the topics by hand, showed around and left after in a state of wanting more. He read so hungrily, devouring until nothing was left and then starved for a new week.
It felt satisfying though – with every new column. But this week he didn’t feel that way. Some kind of disappointment mingled into the feeling.
But he was eager to correct this. His heart was buzzing in his chest at the thought of C.S. reading his column. To sit somewhere and read over his words, the tiniest of smirks on his lips as he realised that someone read his column and even corrected him. But so subtle, in such a writer’s way… He must feel the excitement of it too.
Some lonely raindrops made Wooyoung shiver, looking up. Droplets laid like a net over his glasses, bidding his goodbye to his friends before jogging down to his bus stop. One hand slipped in his bag to find his novel but the fingers found something else instead.
The newspaper cover taunted him as he rolled it out in his hands. He opened it at the desired page, watching as the rain soaked some inked letters. Watched as the paper turned dark grey around the pseudonym.
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October 11th, 2022
The glasses were substituted by contacts today. Sunglasses sat on his hair. Usually, he didn’t wear contacts to university, but he and his friends would hit a club afterwards and Wooyoung always felt just slightly more attractive without his glasses.
Golden light fell through the orange leaves over his head as he strode through the campus, eyes fixed on the entrance. One hand laid protectively over his leather bag at the side while he almost fell over.
The doors were open, and it didn’t take Wooyoung long to find the room of his course.
“Oh, what – you are punctual-“
Yeosang was interrupted by the thud of a newspaper being thrown onto his desk.
“Read it”, Wooyoung said sternly, yet with a smile swelling on his face.
Mingi, who sat on the desk next to them, bent over to read too.
“Wow, writing is really not your talent.”
Wooyoung put his palm into Mingi’s face, face red in embarrassment. “What do you mean? I served. Slayed. Whatever you want to call it. The connection to modern history and cultural theories was a genius move.”
Yeosang let a laugh die in his mouth, “Dying culture – what a title…”
“Stop making fun of me”, Wooyoung whined and wanted to take the newspaper away when Yeosang stopped him.
“I am just kidding. It’s not bad”, Yeosang praised, “I like how you pointed out his mistakes without really doing so.”
Wooyoung slid into the seat next to Yeosang. “Carrots were bred orange for a Dutch house. It was an act of honour in the depths of the 16th century. If C.S. wanted to use carrots in the tale of slaves building the collosum in ancient Rome they should have been yellow, white, red or purple. Carrots are not naturally orange. Humankind made them what they are today. Writing a piece about the ancient times with the experiments of crossbreeding feels more like science fiction than historical. By retelling the history of Dutch and the house of orange – my job is done. C.S. will puzzle it together.”
“He will”, Mingi nodded, “You are just a page behind him, look.” He turned the page, revealing a column about nutrition and diets.
Wooyoung’s heart lurched into his throat, making him clear it as if it helped against his pounding heart.
“Uh”, Wooyoung made a brainless noise as he saw his favourite writer’s pseudonym just a page away from the one, he had chosen: ‘Specialist W.’
All his life he had found it funny to use such strong words for nicknames, knowing people thought it’s cringe. But what should he do… being that naturally funny? He couldn’t help it.
The heavy wooden doors fell close, the professor cursing at the lights not working in his favour as he tried to adjust them with the multiple switches next to the entrance. Wooyoung took the column from his friends.
“What do you think he will say? Will he say anything at all? I am getting a bit nervous now.”
Mingi flicked a twine of dust over the table’s surface towards Wooyoung. “Can’t do anything but wait for next week’s issue, no?”
Wooyoung’s body went hot, his cheeks heating up, eyes wide as he diverted his gaze towards the dust laying on his desk. He poked it with his finger before flicking it down, sailing before catching itself on the crocheted sweater of the guy in front of him. Wooyoung lost himself in the colours of brewed coffee. What a beautiful colour.
For once he didn’t feel the good excitement for next week. There was some kind of dread. What if C.S. would be hurt or reply in a mocking way? If Wooyoung’s little fantasies about him would plop like a bubble?
He guessed that nothing would happen then. His life would just continue. But still, there were needles in his lungs with every breath. A kind of anticipation he hadn’t felt while he was writing but now that he had set the wheels in action – there was no turning back.
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October 18th, 2022
Wooyoung never squealed. He just didn’t do it.
‘A kind columnist has pointed out to me that I had done a mistake in my article two issues ago. I wanna give a shoutout to Specialist W. – as I have read your column, my ears had burned up in embarrassment, finding it to be untrue. But as I learned – after proper research – that this small detail was so entirely wrong, I need to apologise. I usually prepare with utmost care especially as someone who wants to write novels. Thank you, Specialist W.’
Wooyoung squealed.
The iron portal stood stark in the autumn sun; people looked Wooyoung’s way as he hid his wide grin behind the newspaper. Over the edge of the paper, he saw his friends approaching.
“There you have it! Black on white!! C.S. knows that I exist!!”
Yeosang got a hold of the newspaper that Wooyoung excitedly waved in front of their faces.
“Wait. Hold on. Hold on. I thought the goal was to show him the mistake and not to chat with him.”
“The same”, Wooyoung shot like a canon, not leaving room for interpretation. Although deep down his heart sang another song.
“Wow, he even apologised, damn”, Mingi gaped, giving Woo a look through his round glasses, “How does it feel to be smarter?”
“Awesome!”, Wooyoung adjusted the tight fabric of his black turtleneck, “As always.”
He already expected Yeosang to bonk his head with the rolled-up newspapers, but it didn’t happen. His friend was too busy reading, a frown deepening.
“What is it?”
Yeosang looked up, “Have you actually read this to the end?”
Wait. No. He didn’t. After the introduction and shoutout to Wooyoung, C.S. started on his own column and Wooyoung had kept that for class if he was bored. Now that Yeosang pointed it out though…
Wooyoung snatched the newspaper out of his hands, ignoring the weird smirk on Yeosang’s face.
‘As a conclusion to my column, and since I know you read my texts now, I would like to address Specialist W. again. Your knowledge of history amazes me. As someone who is interested into writing historical novels one day, your column last week was a great inspiration. May I ask who I have the pleasure with? Some history professor or archivist? Maybe a member of the old Dutch royalty?’
Wooyoung snorted, before a cute giggle bubbled out of his mouth, leaving his friend’s exchange a suspicious look.
“Don’t laugh like that”, Mingi buzzed, “Almost sounds like you’re some teenager getting a compliment from his crush.”
“Wasn’t it that?”, Yeosang threw in, but Wooyoung couldn’t find his composure again.
“Please, he called me Dutch royalty, I can’t”, he wheezed before his cackling turned into a cough making his friends laugh. “Now look at the opportunities he gave me! I can only win. I’m merely a student. Imagine his face if I tell him!”
“Praise kink”, Mingi coughed and got an elbow for that quite the instant.
“Shut uuuup.”
Mingi was right though. Wooyoung couldn’t lie to himself. He was smart and full of knowledge for two reasons. The first being simple – a degree and a fine job. The second was to put it all on people’s noses. His greatest joy for real and worst habit. But at least he had enough social skills to hide them well and make up for it.
The three of them walked towards the building housing their course.
“So, what is the plan? Will you tell him and every reader of this newspaper your name? Your address? Maybe even a phone number? You can put that you’d like to fuck too-“
“I can’t believe you think of me like that”, Wooyoung gasped with pretended shock.
“So what? Will C.S. now be your pen pal?”
Wooyoung huffed amused, raising an eyebrow, “Pen… pal…?”
Yeosang threw his hands in the air before shoving them into his jacket’s pockets, “My god, what is your next move!? Stop repeating me for fuck’s sake. I won’t ask anymore.”
Wooyoung laughed dryly but the words made him leave the playfulness.
What was his next move?
A shiver of excitement went through his body. He never thought about the aftermath. Not about any next moves. But now that he was there and met with a decision, it laid so clearly before him. C.S. had read his column. He would read another. Maybe he was even awaiting one. Who was Wooyoung to let him down. When he was already that impressed and excited by his intelligence with only that then Wooyoung still had a lot more to offer.
Wooyoung tipped his chin, “I think I’ll stay in after the course, go to the library and do some research.”
Mingi frowned, “On what?”
A devilish grin spread on Wooyoung’s face, “For the greatest work I had ever written.”
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November 1st , 2022
Wooyoung never thought he could fall in love with ink. He never thought that one day he would stare at printed letters and feel butterflies in his stomach, a feeling unknown to him since he had never loved like that in his life before. It was a weird feeling to walk back home in the darkness of winter’s afternoon, snow catching in his black scarf wrapped so tightly around his neck and lower face. His fingers froze as they were clasped around the newspaper, his body was chittering as he searched for his keys. A relieved sigh escaped him as he closed the door of his cold and quiet apartment behind him.
“Welcome home, Wooyoung”, he said to himself before he switched on the lights.
Somehow, he got out of the shoes, throwing the wet coat to the side. His kitchen was empty, only passing swiftly before he went to the living and sleeping area. He let his body fall into the chair at his desk, letting his head roll back. The ceiling was white, a light bulb hanging from the top. He had never put a lamp over it. He reached for the little lamp on the side of his desk, squinting with his dark – almost black – eyes before he rubbed over them tiredly.
He rolled out the newspaper, running his fingers over the front cover, heart already pounding before he opened the page.
C.S. had written something about their latest election and its result, but what his eyes really jumped at was this tiny part at the end that was cut by free space. Simply not part of the column as it read like the chat of a messenger.
‘The article of ancient history and its ties into today’s capitalism was gorgeous, Specialist W. I have never read such a column, leaving me like my world changed after it. You had me not only at the edge of my seat, but I had already given up on it, sat on the floor while I had to gather my chin from down there as my mouth went so agape with every word you uttered. Your knowledge and talent to link information is truly amazing and I can’t believe you are only a student! I - for real - expected Dutch royalty after you had so much precise knowledge that I could not believe a normal human could acquire. You leave me speechless with every column and I start to feel drawn to you.’
Wooyoung’s heart skipped. Even though he had read the column a thousand times by now, it still made his heart skip.
Drawn to you…
‘Are you a student at this newspaper’s university? I heard the history students have a tough program. Is that true? I also know about a history contest between colleges – have you ever taken part in? You would win for sure. I would lay my hand into fire to bet on you. You are truly so interesting. For weeks now I feel like talking to you could not only blow my mind but also make me happy. I hope I don’t overstep and see you in next week’s issue. Bye, C.S.’
Wooyoung sighed but he couldn’t help the smile on his face. Quivering as he knew what all those emotions meant. He would love to be blind to see. He looked to his side, inspecting his own reflection in the windowpane. His brown hair looked tousled from the coat, scarf and caps he wore. There were dark rings under his eyes from too less sleep but nothing new for student Wooyoung. Especially now that he sat until late at night to write columns and giggle at a stranger’s words.
“Oh, what has become of me?”, Wooyoung groaned, holding the bridge of his nose as he let his body slump back into the chair, head rolling until he saw the light bulb again. It flickered. Wooyoung closed his eyes. The corners of his mouth rose. “A hopeless, romantic fool.”
~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~
November 8th , 2022
The weeks dragged on. While his studies and semester went on full speed, his thoughts had been with someone else. Wooyoung found himself not studying like he used to, the moth around his lamp not being as annoying as it used to be as he smiled over the newspaper columns more and more. He still read C.S.’ columns with love and admiration, but his focus kept shifting towards the small parts at the end. The one’s the writer put his heart into, showing Wooyoung a side that nobody knew. They started to communicate over those small parts, started to share their lives and interests beneath tons of eyes witnessing. But they didn’t care.
‘I am in fact a student at the University of KQ. Your guess was also right. It’s history with a special focus on European history. You have no idea how happy you made me. Telling me all of that made me feel good. I am happy that my knowledge proves to be more than just some help for homework. Also, you mentioned a historical novel project – would you maybe want to tell me more about it? It sounds really interesting. Are you also a student at this university? Let me guess – literature. I may be wrong though. Let me know and have a good day. Bye, Specialist W.’
Wooyoung smiled. This was the beginning of something that felt so meant to be. Almost as if finding each other through newspaper was predestined by some higher authority. And yet, Wooyoung loved to call it romantic. Like bumping into each other on the street and falling in love with on first sight. Words had never moved Wooyoung this much, but with every column that was passed by them, something in Wooyoung lit aflame. The harsh winter would definitely feel different this year.
He buried his nose deeper in his black scarf, the words of the professor at the edge of his consciousness.
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November15 th , 2022
Dear Specialist W.
We seem to study at the same university! I love how predictable our professions were. You were right. It’s my very great passion. Can I ask you something I am very interested in? What brought you to start writing columns here? It’s not the place where usually people come to write. I have been here for years now, and I have never seen you around. Although I am an author myself, I am very interested in discovering new styles or talents. It’s always so exciting. Reading your works inspired me. Truly a feast for everyone who specialises there. I was wondering if perhaps you are interested in doing a collab? Combining our works someday, seems like a logical and successful idea. Anyways. I hope you have a lovely day, and I wish you the best. See you in next week’s issue. C.S.
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November 22th , 2022
Dear C.S.
I am delighted to hear from you like this. Our little chats make my week better and I also had a great day!! The collaboration offer sounds so cool. But… would you really want to do that with me? I am not a great writer like you. I always just put as much knowledge on a paper as possible. It’s very moving though… that you think of me like that. And if you really wanna know, the reason I started writing columns was you. The weather is getting worse, stay warm these days. Can’t wait for a possible collab. Dear Specialist W.
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November 29th , 2022
Dear Specialist W.
You’re so sweet. I am well and I hope you too. I am happy to hear you feel the same. My friends had already been making fun of me and the way I talk about you without break. They said it’s rather odd to chat through the columns, but I think it’s nice. Chatting with you comes so naturally and easy after all. A tiny voice in my head tells me to ask you if we can meet. But I don’t want to be too straightforward. And don’t talk yourself down. You and your writing are beautiful the way they are. Cheer up. C.S.
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December 6th , 2022
“I will fucking frame this”, Wooyoung murmured as he held the newspaper in shaking hands. His face was hot, and the smile pressed his cheeks up. He felt like an idiot being so giddy about it, but this C.S. just made him so happy. Quickly, Wooyoung had swapped the ‘column writer’ to ‘his crush’ in his head, always addressing him differently now and it made the thoughts circle even more.
Wooyoung put the newspaper into his bag, taking a few attempts as his fingers were sweaty. The wind brushed through his hair, leaves crunching on the wet asphalt as it had rained the entire night. The leather strap was tight around his chest, holding it in front to secure it. The bag felt heavier than usually, sweat pearling on his forehead despite the cold temperatures. He cleared his throat as it was awfully scratchy these days.
He couldn’t have a crush on this person he never met, right? It wasn’t a good idea. But he knew deep down whenever he thought about him, he smiled. It made his cheeks warm, his chest bloom. What else was there to discuss? Some nights Wooyoung laid awake and fantasized about how he would look, how he would meet C.S., and he would be exactly Wooyoung’s ideal type. But maybe that was stupid.
“Hey, Wooyoung!”
Mingi’s voice ripped him from his thoughts, sharing a smile with the boy in glasses. “Hi, Mings.”
“Have you already taken the newest issue?”, Mingi brushed his hair back as it kept falling into his face with the annoying wind.
Wooyoung nodded with a light blush. He loved when the others were asking about it.
“What did he say?”
Although Mingi loved to make fun about it with Yeosang, he knew that both Mingi and Yeosang did not think Wooyoung was a hopeless case. They were just worried because they didn’t know who that C.S. was and they didn’t want Wooyoung to get hurt. Mingi knew what was up though, as he too had a crush on someone from the neighbouring department – he was able to tell the signs.
“That I am sweet”, Wooyoung grinned into his scarf, closing his eyes in crescents as he thought about it. “And to not talk myself down.”
Mingi huffed, “Charming, but he won’t be able to do that.”
“Hey”, Wooyoung pushed Mingi slightly, making the tall boy stumble into a little puddle of muddy water.
Mingi frowned at his white sneakers that were everything but white now, before shrugging it off, drying the soles on the leaves next to it.
“He also wants to meet me.”
Mingi stopped in his action, looking up with his mouth open. “C.S.? And what did you say?”
Wooyoung hugged his own shoulders, biting his lower lip as he looked at the building in the distance. He had the power to direct their fates to a new stage or leave it as it was. It was a big step and Wooyoung’s heart rate tripled speed.
Dear C.S.
A meeting? Yes, I think I would love to. Sadly, I have to tell you though, that the weather had gotten to me. I am sick and I don’t want to meet up like that with you. I have to take care of this fever first. Your column and words had made the cold seep out of my bones a bit. It will help to get better. I hope to recover soon. I also think we would be the greatest friends; don’t you think so? I’ll let you know when I am better. Specialist W.
The days had gotten colder and shorter. Wooyoung struggled with his cold, and it took weeks to make him feel better. But maybe, just maybe, he had also taken the time to think about his profound answer. C.S. had continued to write his columns but without the little added parts for Wooyoung at the end. The first time Wooyoung had realised that he did not write him personally anymore, he felt so hurt. His heart had squeezed so tightly, he felt like it would burst. He didn’t like that. Even if Wooyoung tried to logically argue that C.S had stopped because Wooyoung had told him he would reach out when he was better. He was just doing what Wooyoung had asked him to.
Wait for me.
But maybe he waited for too long.
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December 22th , 2022
It was late afternoon and already dark outside. The fairy lights blinked in the reflection on his window, illuminating the snow that had gathered on the outside. Wooyoung’s nose still felt stuffy but at least he was able to be out of his bed without feeling like he would die. He looked at the pile of books and papers that he should read. He got way behind with everything because he was bedridden for weeks.
He already felt exhausted, although he had not even started yet. Among all the books laid a specific newspaper. The cover felt like home nowadays. His fingers grasped for it, looking for the desired page. Wooyoung’s tips graced the two initials that he learned to love in the span of a few months. He really couldn’t care less who was behind them. He was in love. And admitting it made his heart weigh so heavily.
He pushed the studying equipment to the side, pulling his laptop closer. The website for the newspaper, where he could submit his columns, was already saved; just one click away. His heart stumbled as he saw C.S.’ newest column there as the header. He was really that incredible.
If C.S. still remembered Wooyoung after all those weeks? Maybe he had forgotten Wooyoung the second he disappeared. Even if it hurt to think like that.
The words wrote themselves as Wooyoung had a lot to tell. The column he wrote as a cover was short. So short that Wooyoung even worried that the newspaper wouldn’t take it and tell Wooyoung that there were chatrooms and apps he could use to chat with someone. On the other hand, the newspaper hardly had any writers, content or readers. They, for sure, would gladly take it.
He nibbled on his lip, leaving it busted and open as he formed the sentences, asking his favourite author to meet up next Tuesday evening at the library. He was sure that C.S. was reading the issues on Tuesday when they got published too. He would surely be there. Wooyoung also voiced the way he missed him. Maybe he had said too much. Had said too explicitly that his heart was waiting for him.
The student sighed, leaning back into his uncomfortable chair as he eyed the finished column.
‘Submit’.
He pressed it. The whole procedure had made him sweat or maybe the fever was back. Whatever it was, it made Wooyoung hum in discomfort, clasping his cheeks. Oh, what was he even doing?
The wheels of his chair screeched over the floor, reminding him that he still needed some mat beneath it. He walked over to his calendar, a pen in his hand that he opened with his teeth. He circled the 27th with red. Once. Twice. And a third time. He took a deep breath as it all became real, drawing a little heart into the messy circles, leaving him to count the days.
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December 27th , 2022
It was the best day in Wooyoung’s life. Supposedly. It should have been the one that changed the trajectory of his life forever. Where he would meet his soulmate and best friend. He was excited to see where this would be going, how his life would be if he met C.S. now. It would go so differently. They would spend every day and night and write their scientific papers together.
Wooyoung’s feet came to a halt, leaves crunching under the weight of his black boots. His breath puffed out in a warm cloud as he caught his breath after all the running.
The stall that had the newest issues was empty. It read ‘Newspaper insolvent. Issues cancelled.’ Words that burned into Wooyoung’s brain forever.
Wooyoung’s fingers ran over the spot where the newspaper laid every week.
It felt weird. The way his eyes started to burn… felt weird.
He blinked rapidly as he got his phone out, walking a bit to the side. He opened the chat with Yeosang punching in the letters as his vision blurred, not noticing a figure approaching and leaving with the same frown branded on his forehead. Dark shadows of long coats and raven hair.
Another one left heartbroken as the two young boys had been left with unreciprocated feelings.
Yet… two broken hearts would always fit the best, completing where they had been ripped.
To an undying love.
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September 11th, 2028
He needed another coffee. Wooyoung sighed, flattening out the frown on his forehead.
It was definitely not a bad choice. The dates seemed right which was not a usual thing. People tended to mix up the birth dates of the middle European emperors. Wooyoung couldn’t take such books seriously, had written too many e-mails to those publishers and authors about misinformation, he was tired.
The air in the national library was stuffy. Dark atmosphere, the red wood of the shelves was polished to perfection, the sun shining like fire in the late evening sun.
Wooyoung had brushed off his long grey coat with plaid pattern to the chair next to him, only a black shirt on his muscular frame. He nibbled on the ring around his lips, the piercing being a remnant of that one party in his last year at university. It laid some years back now, but it still looked good on him, so he continued to wear it.
He sighed as his hair fell into his face again. The black bangs had grown out a lot, reaching to his cheeks and covering his eyes all the time. When he had left his flat, he had put a little silver clip into the long waves. He had decided to leave the strands at the front free because it looked well, but now that he was searching for resources to work with, they were annoying. The book would do well for his next paper in the scientific historical magazine he was co-publishing. He put the book to the table where his coat laid, taking the clip out of his hair and put it between his teeth while his hands were busy threading the strands back.
His eyes wandered through the heavy atmosphere of the library. Usually, the place was quite quiet but today there seemed to be an interview with a famous writer. Some novelists. A few people had formed a queue outside to get an autograph too. It took Wooyoung minutes to convince the people outside that he was not here for some stupid writer but work and hence will not stand in some queue.
Good that he still had the same attitude than back when he was younger. He didn’t take shit.
“How did you think of your newest work’s trope – it is quite something special?”
A dark voice chuckled making Wooyoung look over as he put the clip in his hair, finally seeing better. He touched his nose, not used to the contact lenses as he always wanted to push up his glasses that were not there.
“Is it? I don’t know, it just felt right.” The voice was quite pleasant and Wooyoung made some steps to the side to see more than just the back of the woman who interviewed the writer.
Wooyoung’s heart stumbled a bit as he saw a handsome man sitting on the other side of the table, turned into his direction. He had a charming smile, deep dimples on a tanned skin. His black hair seemed short, but he couldn’t really tell as most of it was pushed back. He wore a good outfit. Some jacket, some shirt. Formal but not too much. Just how Wooyoung liked it too. A silver necklace laid on exposed skin on his chest. Wooyoung caught himself wandering down the chain.
“In my youth there had been a friend who had inspired me for European history and especially the roman empire.”
Wooyoung squinted at the weird answers he gave. A tiny smile formed on Wooyoung’s lips against his will as he was also interested in that the most. He looked around finding a pile with the books of the author. It must have been the newest novel, some ancient elements on the cover paired with futuristic devices.
Huh… seems like a roman inspired sci-fi thing.
Not really Wooyoung’s cup of tea, although everything historical inspired interested him. Mainly because he was always on the search for historical correctness as it stimulated his brain just the right way.
Without knowing why, he took the book to the table where his clothes laid, sitting on it instead of the chair. A habit the librarians would never make him get rid of. He put his legs on the chair instead, reading the blurb.
The lip ring moved with his concentrated nibbling. Wooyoung frowned. Was this romance? Or historical? It was a weird combination. There was a sister and the saying of an old goddess, but they didn’t seem to be the main pairing as the only names mentioned were male.
It made sense with the majority of the fans waiting outside being young girls if this was LGBTQ+ fiction with some supernatural twist. He would have loved that too as a teenager.
“A friend?”
Wooyoung only heard it at the periphery of his senses, his leg jumping up and down as a long-term habit. He was turning the pages, reading into some scenes, getting a weird feeling reading the sentences. Something familiar in the way the writer expressed himself. Wooyoung turned the next page and the next, captured in the way the boys spoke with each other.
“A lost one.”
“Ah, my condolences. I didn’t want to pry.”
“He is not dead. I just… never met him.”
The scratching of the woman’s pen on her tablet stopped. Wooyoung didn’t give it a thought as he frowned at the historical correctness of the novel. Was this not for teenagers? It didn’t feel that way as the world that was portrayed was as true to ancient Rome as someone could do. Novelists did research often, but this bordered Wooyoung’s knowledge. It was impressive… to say the least.
“Let’s move on to another question.”
“Gladly.”
“In the past there was a columnist who used the pseudonym ‘C.S.’ and had the same writing style as you, could we know if it was you?”
Wooyoung froze. His eyes petrified, the words on the paper starting to shake with his eyes as he closed the book with a slap. The name of the author emblazoned on the cover.
‘Choi San’.
The author of the book was Choi San.
Wooyoung looked up to the writer, seeing how his smile from before had been substituted by one of utter shock.
“W- I…”, it seemed weird, but San was at a loss of words. “H-have you read those?”
“I did”, the woman said, “I do my research well”, her voice shifted to something sweet, something comforting and soft. “Is he the friend you have been referring to?”
San took a deep breath before releasing the air with a breathed, “Yes.”
The book in Wooyoung’s hands slipped from his grasp. A loud thump echoing through the hall as the hardcover hit the parquet floor a few times, before coming to a stop on one of the first pages.
The woman turned to look, San’s eyes also swept over, finding Wooyoung in a heartbeat.
Wooyoung had a shocked expression on his face, felt his heartbeat like butterfly wings in his throat. He felt so exposed under San’s gaze, yet the man couldn’t know by just looking over. Wooyoung never had his identity revealed.
The woman turned back to San. “For the last question-“
“Actually, I think that have been enough questions. I have a lot of fans waiting for me.”
The woman made a surprised noise, not expecting the kind manners shifting into something so demanding but scrambled her stuff together as San stood from his chair, eyes never leaving Wooyoung.
Wooyoung watched him with wide eyes, pretending to be busy to not feed into his six years dead delusions.
His thoughts went a thousand miles per second, heart going into overdrive as he didn’t know what to do. His thoughts were blocked as his brain dug out memories from years ago. Faint but yet so vibrant because Wooyoung used to think a lot about it. And although it hadn’t been at the forefront of his thoughts anymore, it had been a lingering unresolved thing. Forever a page in his diary that left unanswered. Something that had made every of his romantic relationships break at some point and something that had made him pick up the pen to write more often than not.
Wooyoung drew in a sharp breath, reaching for the book on the floor but a broad tanned hand was quicker.
“What a way to treat my work”, San said, blowing off imaginative dust, flattening out the edges of the book where it connected with the floor first. “It’s yours.”
Wooyoung shook his head, cheeks catching fire as he hurriedly denied the book with waves of both his hands, “N-no, no, no. It’s not mine. I just took it from the- ooof.” The hardcover was suddenly pressed against his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs.
“Take it”, San demanded, gaze so intense on Wooyoung, the historian didn’t even know what was happening anymore.
San couldn’t know. But Wooyoung wanted him to know. So badly.
Wooyoung looked at the book in his hands, “Why would you gift me your novel?”
“Because it feels right. I can’t explain”, San smiled, and it was the cutest thing Wooyoung had ever seen.
But Wooyoung knew. He knew why it felt right. Haven’t they said it often enough? They would understand each other so well. Get along perfectly. Be the best friends everyone wished for. For Wooyoung it had always been a little more; always a little more than any of his other romantic relationships had been.
“How did you get in here?”, San asked, looking through the empty rows of the library, an eerie feeling to the dusty, dampened air as his eyes flew over the rows of books, “I told them to let no fans in during the interview.”
“Oh, I am not a fan.”
“Are you not?”, San asked, head dipping to the side as he had his hands folded on his lower back.
A sizzling feeling, like a thunderbolt, dashed through Wooyoung’s body, setting his skin on fire as the ants started crawling.
“I am”, Wooyoung admitted without resistance anymore. “I was your very first fan, C.S.”
The smile on San’s face wavered. Granted, had anyone called him that ever before? Choi San was Choi San. He wasn’t C.S. Nobody had been C.S. for six years. Since university.
Something appeared on his face. A painful twist to those dimples trying to fight their way through. A contorted duel between happiness and shock. Surprise and grief.
But did he remember Wooyoung too? Did he remember the way their hearts fluttered on every Tuesday in 2022? Had he known that Wooyoung had cut out the columns and hung on the walls of his dorm until he took them off at the day after his graduation, folding them and storing them in just one of those many boxes? San couldn’t know. However, how comical… to meet now.
Since San wasn’t moving anymore, Wooyoung put on his grey jacket, book tight against his chest as he shouldered his worn-off leather bag, zips inside broken and edges rid of leather, scratched and ruined. Wooyoung gave the book a little smile.
“You started to do your research quite profoundly”, Wooyoung chuckled, “Followed my advice so well.”
Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t he calling him by his name? Or had San forgotten him that easily? No, that couldn’t be. If Wooyoung was able to remember, San must have been too. He had to. Yet, with every second of silence that passed, Wooyoung lost faith. Was he childish for remembering an university-crush? Maybe so.
Wooyoung bowed slightly, “Excuse me”, he mumbled as it got too unbearable for his heart. Would he cry himself to sleep after this? Most definitely, but Wooyoung couldn’t confront San with this past of theirs. Now that Wooyoung knew, he would buy all of San’s works though and would find himself standing in those queues of fans outside with a book in hand waiting to get just a few minutes with him and maybe a signature on the covers. His heart weighed heavily at the thought, because it was clearly not what Wooyoung wanted. Hell, San could slot their lips together just like that and Wooyoung would take it. Young feelings worked so differently. Whatever had bloomed back then in his chest had never withered.
And just as Wooyoung had passed him, he felt a grip on his free wrist. Fierce and strong. It made Wooyoung’s shoulders jump up before he looked back to San in surprise. San was dead-serious though, studying Wooyoung’s face like a book.
“You owe me.”
The words echoed in the empty library, throwing them back towards Wooyoung, knocking on his head, like a nail into the wall - with every word deeper.
He owed him.
“What do I-“
“A meeting. A collaboration. The heart you took of me”, San’s expression got pained, a frown building wrinkles on his forehead.
Wooyoung’s heart hammered against his chest. He would not see the end of this day anymore; he was sure about it. His mouth was dry, unable to form a word as he didn’t know what to reply. It felt like a dream he would wake up from any minute, just waiting.
“You are Specialist W., aren’t you?”
And San suddenly got so hopeful. His voice raising an octave. His eyes were glistening albeit from tears of hope or excitement. He was shaking as he couldn’t believe it and Wooyoung couldn’t believe it too.
“I was. Back in school. Years ago.”
San’s face lit up. “Finally, I found you.”
Wooyoung’s heart stumbled in his chest, “What do you mean?”
“I was looking for you everywhere. Had visited the department of history day after day, not knowing who I was looking for. Deep down I knew though, that when I would see you, I would know.”
“Did you?”
“Hm?”, San asked, words getting drowned out by the noise of Woo’s heart.
“When you lifted your head, did you-“
“Immediately”, San nodded his head, “Like the sun had found to the moon. I know not to overstep, so I wanted to be sure.” Heat rose to Wooyoung’s cheeks as San suddenly let his hands wander from his wrist to his hand, also taking the other one making the book fall to the floor again. “You are the boy I had written to. All those years ago.”
Wooyoung was bright red. Dizzy from the storm that had taken over his heart. Lightnings bolted through his veins, zipping and electrifying his cells.
“The columns?”, Wooyoung squeaked in a whisper because that couldn’t be, right? His San – C.S. – his crush – it couldn’t be…
San squeezed his hands more, “Yes. It’s me. I am C.S. Do you remember me too?”
“How could I forget”, Wooyoung smiled, shaking his head.
“Choi San! Five minutes till I let them in!!”, a guy yelled over, nodding towards the door where silhouettes of girls were visible.
“Yes, a minute!”, San yelled back, getting stressed. “Urgh”, he sighed, “I wish to talk to you more, I don’t want you to leave just yet.”
Wooyoung chuckled. “So… C.S. became a teenage novel writer?”, he said it in a mocking tone making San huff.
“Historical novels. I just happen to make people gay sometimes. It’s popular among the teens.”
That made Wooyoung laugh. Everything about San felt so familiar, as if it was meant to be.
San raised an eye at that, “And what about you? Had Specialist W. became a specialist in his field?”
The grin on Wooyoung’s face was never-ending, “You can bet.” He had gotten his PhD for history just a year ago. Now he was finally working the thing he was good at.
San played with the tons of silver rings around Wooyoung’s fingers nervously, making Wooyoung think about how he would play with the one closed around his lower lip.
“I still think that we are meant to be.”
Wooyoung stilled.
San probably meant that differently, but for Wooyoung it meant more. It was like San came back into his life with a little torch to set the dead wood of a fireplace alive. But Wooyoung had lived long enough now to hope for good things.
“I think we are too.”
Both men smiled, hearts connecting over a distance of merely something, only a book fitting between them.
San ended the touch, making Wooyoung instantly miss his fingers around his skin. The author scrambled to get his book from the floor again, while fishing in the chest pocket of his shirt.
“You had always been merely a column away, yet when the newspaper closed, I had lost you for eternity.”
San went through the book, opening the page in the beginning, “You know I have thanked you in every of my novels”, San said showing the page to Wooyoung where a mysterious friend was thanked for. Wooyoung’s eyes were blown wide.
“There was no need to thank me for-“
“No”, San said while taking the pen’s cap off with his teeth, “You made me what I am now”, San mumbled, barely understandable with the pen in his mouth. He put a last emphasis on his writing before taking the cap out and on the pen again.
“Here take it”, San offered the book back to him; closed.
“I still deny.”
“I have done my research well. You showed me to not be sloppy if it’s about history. I promise it’s not.” He held the book higher, closer to Wooyoung, “I want to show you – of all people – that it’s not. Please.”
Wooyoung huffed and snatched the book away, “I like people who do their research properly.”
“I know”, San smiled. “And I want you to like me.”
Wooyoung opened the page where San had scribbled something, making him blush crimson once again.
It was a phone number combined with San asking him out for a date. Wooyoung’s eyes must have spoken novels as San gave him the cutest yet most confident look back.
“If words can move you, I want to do it like that. The way I intended to ask you for six years now. Written with ink. Black on white.”
“For Wooyoung.”
San dipped his head, “Huh-?”
Wooyoung closed his eyes with a smile feeling warm at the thought that from now on things would change. He handed San the book back, page open with the question for a coffee in the near future.
“If you ask me for a date, do it properly. Write my name too.”
San uncapped the pen again, eyes not leaving Wooyoung as he bent down to write Wooyoung’s name in the prettiest letters Wooyoung had ever seen. The way his college self had hung the ripped out columns of their conversation on the walls, Wooyoung knew that this page would end up on his wall next to his bookshelves, ripped out and framed.
“Is that a yes?”, San asked when Wooyoung clapped the book close, the noise making an echo in the library.
“I’ll read this with care. I’ll tell you where your mistakes had been”, he said waving it in front of San’s nose.
“On our date?”
Wooyoung smiled, putting the book into his leather bag, before pulling his scarf close. He cuddled his nose into the wool, hiding his smile.
“I accepted your offer for a date already six years ago, Choi San”, Wooyoung closed the distance between them. The tips of their leather shoes – polished and shining – touched at the toes as Wooyoung’s hands full of rings, laid on San’s wide shoulders. He tip-toed slightly, as he brushed his lips over San’s cheeks, the piercing moving in the small kiss. He left the ghost of a touch on San, which will haunt the author until nighttime when he would lie in bed with a stupid smile. In love. So in love.
“See you”, Wooyoung had the final note to their conversation, waving over his shoulder with a gorgeous, yet small smile.
San almost forgot to wave back as Wooyoung got swallowed in a horde of teenage girls running inside to stand queue to talk to San.
It was a struggle to make it outside. Greeted by the cold wind he longed for his phone stored in the pocket of his jacket. His thumbs trembled over the chat, opening the old college chat with Yeosang and Mingi that was barely in use anymore. A revival every few months to get drinks together or watch a game of basketball. Yet when Wooyoung opened it, it felt so naturally. The words so familiar.
‘I know what the initials stand for.’
It was all it needed. Wooyoung closed his phone taking a deep breath, smiling against the cold afternoon darkness, tiny snowflakes dancing.
After six years.
Wooyoung took out the novel again, letting his fingers run over the phone number.
His last column had reached him.