Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Forty-two seconds. Forty-three. Forty-four. He can go longer–sixty-five is his record, all blue in the face and shaking with the effort of holding back–but not today. Today he gets to forty-five.

“I don’t understand!” the woman shouts, gray and wrinkled. “I called in two weeks ago and you said it was in stock!”

“Right,” Felix says, plastering on a smile equal parts kind and void as he finally gives his lungs reprieve. He takes a slow, deep breath in, then out, then in. Forty-five seconds, though he can go longer when a customer isn’t screaming at him. “It was in stock two weeks ago, but has been purchased since then.”

“But you knew I wanted to buy it!”

“Well, I knew you inquired about it–”

“I promised my granddaughter we could watch Sleeping Beauty!” she snaps. “Now what am I supposed to tell her?”

“We have a lot of other movies–”

“I don’t want other movies! I want the movie I was promised and I want a full refund!”

“Refund? But you didn’t purchase–”

“Get me your manager!” she shrieks, her wrinkled skin turning red with indignation.

It’s not every day that someone like this comes into Murph’s Media Emporium. Most people don’t come in at all, what with the death of physical DVDs, CDs, that sort of thing. It’s only a matter of time before Murph’s doors close, but until then, Felix smiles big and bright and holds his breath for forty-five seconds. Felix helps customers, rare though they are, and he gets his manager when they ask.

“Again?” Murph sighs, tossing his phone onto a table in the back room with a loud clatter. Felix can see he’s streaming an old drama–one they have on the shelves just outside the door.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Felix,” Murph says, standing up with a groan, a grumble–the annoyance in his voice directed both at Felix and at his old, weary bones. “We can’t keep doing this. If you’re going to be a manager, you have to know how to talk to customers.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Take your break kid,” Murph says, clapping a calloused, liver spotted hand onto his shoulder. “I’ll handle it.”

Murph’s Media Emporium is a small shop in a medium sized mall in a big city. Sydney is warm this time of year, which means it’s cold inside, the air conditioning bouncing off the bright white walls and the bright white floors and making Felix shiver in his bright white company shirt.

Not a lot of people come here on the weekdays. The clothing stores advertise fifty percent off to nobody but fellow employees; the trinket kiosks sit quiet in their abandonment; the food court hums with life when it usually roars.

Felix doesn’t mind the stillness. It means he can walk and not have to worry about seeing anyone he knows. It means he can grab a cup of ice cream from the little shop just a few doors down and not have to wait in line. It means he can sit on the edge of the big, bubbling fountain in the middle of the mall and eat his sweet treat, though it doesn’t taste sweet. It tastes cold like the air conditioning. It tastes like a woman yelling at him. It tastes like forty-five seconds, though his record is sixty-five.

The fountain soothes Felix enough that he forgives himself for wasting money on a snack he barely even tastes. He takes a deep breath in, holds it, lets it out. He takes a deep breath in, and when he gets back to the shop, the woman is long gone. Instead, there’s a group of sneering teenagers giggling behind their hands as they loiter by the adult section.

Felix holds his breath when they approach the counter with something explicit in hand. He smiles his brightest customer service smile, the flavor of cold still lingering on his tongue as he prepares for the incoming argument.

“Can I see some ID?”

Felix locks the shop up by himself and he commutes home by himself and when he arrives at his parents’ house, he finds that he’s still by himself. Sometimes his parents work late, sometimes they go out late, but rarely does Felix check to see which it is. Instead, he cracks eggs without looking, chops vegetables without seeing, makes himself an okay sandwich without thinking, and cleans it all up without noticing how time passes.

Once Felix is full, he has nothing to do except sleep. So, Felix takes a shower and he brushes his teeth and when he looks at himself in the mirror, he smiles too big, then too small, then gets it just right–the kind of smile he can show to customers, to his parents, to anyone.

Bed by 10:30pm, up by 8:30am. This day is much the same, though with no cold on his tongue. The customers vary but not by a lot. The time passes but not noticeably. The next day is much the same, and the next, and the next, and the next.

On Tuesday, Felix has his first day off in ten days and his last day off for the next seven. He spends it how he always does: flower shop, daisies this time, chat with nice owner. Tell her the bouquet is for nothing special. Laugh when she disbelieves. Laugh again when she wishes luck. Wave goodbye. Drop smile, walk toward home, veer off the road and into the brush. Wade through tall grass and scratchy shrubs until they give way to a small pocket of sand.

The beach is quaint and secluded–not the kind for tourists and barely the kind for locals. It’s not the prettiest spot, not the best for walking or swimming or sunbathing either. The sand is surrounded by a small embankment of grassy earth, elevated just slightly.

Felix climbs up the leftmost hill that overlooks the ocean. From this position, he can see the waves–calm today–and he can see the handful of rocks that rest in the water just below the small cliff. If he dangled from the edge, his feet could touch the tallest one. It’s not a far drop by any means, but the idea of falling from this height is still scary.

Felix takes a deep breath, enjoying the salty breeze on his face and the pretty water beneath him. It crashes gently against the rocks, pushing and pulling like a slow dance, though the rocks do not return such affection. They sit still amongst the movement, allowing themselves to weather without complaint. Except for one.

Felix blinks as something shifts with the motion of the water. He takes a step closer to the edge of the small cliff, noticing that it’s not a rock that moves, but rather a back. Someone’s back. A person. In the ocean. Face down. Not swimming. Floating. Drowning.

“Shit,” Felix whispers. He drops his bouquet of flowers and the small bag of supplies he brought. He turns so fast on his heel that he nearly face plants into the ground, but he catches himself just in time. He scrambles down the embankment, mumbling, “Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit,” as he goes.

Felix slips again when his feet hit the sand, but he uses the momentum to propel himself into the water, not stopping to take off his shoes or any clothes. They weigh him down as he half runs, half trudges into the brine.

It’s difficult to stay afloat once the seafloor evades him. His head disappears beneath the water once, twice, three times before he’s desperate for air, cursing himself for never properly learning how to swim. But still, he pushes through the tides, gasping and kicking and getting closer, closer, closer until he can grab onto the person in front of him, shirtless and broad and probably blue in the face, probably drowned and dead and bloated from it.

“It’s okay,” Felix says, spitting water out of his mouth as he does so. He flips the man over, gripping tightly onto one of his arms and kicking furiously, though they don’t move anywhere. “I’ve got you. Don’t panic, you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re–”

“You alright, mate?”

Felix stops as much as he can stop in a never-still sea. He struggles to keep his face above the surface as he finally realizes that oh, this man has not drowned–not even passed out. He floats with ease, blinking back at Felix in confusion with goggles over his eyes and a snorkel dangling near his mouth.

“What the fuck?” Felix asks, accidentally swallowing a mouthful of salt with his words.

“How’s it going?” the man asks. Felix doesn’t have the mental capacity to take him in properly, what with ocean in his nose and panic in his lungs. All he can see is a man living, a man breathing, a man cocking his head and smiling like nothing’s wrong.

“Are you swimming?” Felix asks, his voice cracking.

“Yeah?”

“I thought you were drowning.”

“Oh. Sorry, no drowning. Just swimming,” he says, his brow wrinkling in concern as he watches another small, gentle wave overtake Felix, briefly submerging him entirely. “Are you drowning?”

“No, just–” Felix cuts himself off with a gasp, a cough, salt stinging every part of him. “–Weak swimmer.”

“And you were going to save me?” the man giggles, the sound of it squeaky and sweet despite how he pokes fun.

“I was going to try!”

“My hero.”

“Shut up!”

“Come on. I’ll give you a ride back to shore,” he says, maneuvering Felix until he straddles his back like a baby koala. Felix marvels at the muscle there, absentmindedly wrapping his legs around the man’s middle before he can think about it.

“No, no, it’s okay!” Felix protests, but he makes no move to let go or to swim on his own. Rather, he clings tighter, feeling his own muscles tremble and ache after their brief usage.

They glide through the water like the water wants them to. It’s easy like this, almost peaceful if not for the taste of fish and salt and rot on his tongue.

The man doesn’t let Felix go even when he can touch the seafloor again. Instead, he carries Felix on his back until they stand firmly on the beach, waves nipping at their ankles playfully, asking them to come swim again soon.

“Better?” the man asks, squatting down so Felix can slide onto the ground.

“Yeah, all good,” he says, flashing the stranger his happiest, most practiced smile. Felix shakes his hands to fling away the water and disguise his trembling fingers.

“Aw, man!” the stranger exclaims, pointing down. “Your shoes!”

“Shit, yeah,” Felix chuckles, kicking a foot out. His sneakers squelch with ocean, heavy and ruined with their heaviness. “Guess I kind of rushed in. Didn’t think about it.”

“That was nice of you,” the man smiles, tilting his head again. He studies Felix for a second, something incomprehensible in his eyes. Something soft. He snaps out of it quickly, averting his gaze altogether to jog just a few paces away. On the sand sits a pile of neatly folded clothing, a pair of sandals, and a towel.

“Anybody would’ve done it,” Felix says, running a sheepish hand over his wet hair.

“Not true. Towel?” he asks, extending said towel out to Felix.

“Um…yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

Felix accepts the second kindness offered to him, using it to pat dry. He’s careful not to be too thorough with it, aware that his stranger needs to use the towel as well.

“What’s your name, hero?” the man asks, patiently dripping until Felix becomes too self-conscious to continue. He hands the towel back long before he’s done with it, then watches as his stranger runs it frantically over his curly hair. It sticks up in one million directions when he finishes, though Felix hardly notices. It’s probably disrespectful to stare at his bare chest, his bare stomach, his bare arms while he dries off, so Felix tears his eyes away with some effort.

“It’s Felix.”

“Nice to meet you, Felix. I’m Chan. Or Chris. Whatever’s easier.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Either. Whatever’s easier.”

“Okay,” Felix says, deciding to use Chan for no other reason than he said it first. “Thank you. For the towel and for the ride to shore.”

“No problem,” Chan grins, tugging on his T-shirt. “Sorry for worrying you earlier. I feel bad.”

“It’s okay,” Felix says, crossing his arms. He stares at that small cliff and those smooth rocks and the water wrapped around them. “It was just weird, you know? Because you aren’t allowed to swim here. That’s why it freaked me out so much.”

The memory of why he came in the first place comes back to Felix quick and heavy-handed. He gasps with the realization of it, then hurries back up the embankment. His bouquet of flowers sits unharmed in the grass and next to it, his bag.

“Why not?” Chan asks, startling Felix. He hadn’t realized Chan followed him, but here he stands at Felix’s side.

“Huh?”

“Why can’t people swim? Sharks?”

“You don’t live here?” Felix asks. Chan’s shirt clings to his still-damp skin in a way that feels lewd. His swim trunks, too, hug his thighs so tight that Felix thinks they might not be swim trunks at all but rather plain boxers.

“I do,” Chan says. “I was born here, but I actually moved away when I was a teenager and just now came back. So, I’m not new, but I also kind of am.”

“Where’d you go?” Felix asks, choosing to ignore the way Chan’s voice sounds so nice and his body looks so nice and everything about him seems so nice. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand. He scoops up his flowers, his bag, and relocates to a small patch of dirt further up the cliff. Old flowers, wilted and sun-baked, poke out of the ground here, unbothered by grass that stopped growing with Felix’s constant digging.

“Seoul,” Chan says. “South Korea.”

“Woah, what for?”

“Swimming.”

“Like a scholarship?” Felix asks. He replaces each decayed flower one by one, remembering them for how they looked when he first bought them and not how they look now. The new flowers stand tall in their little dirt mounds, though Felix knows they will droop in just a few days. “To swim for a school team?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“You know,” Chan says, squatting next to Felix. “The flowers won’t grow like that.”

“What?”

“They don’t have roots.”

“Oh, I know,” Felix says. “I can’t get seeds to grow here either, though. So, I just do this. Looks nice for a little while.”

“Do you do this often?” Chan asks, the heat of his gaze burning into Felix’s cheek.

“Yeah, whenever I have time. I like it.”

Chan hums in acknowledgement if not understanding. He digs a small crater into the dirt with his hands, then stares at Felix until he places the final daisy inside. He pushes the earth back into place, packing it tight enough to keep the flower upright. He stands with a grunt, stretches his back with a groan, and then admires Felix’s paltry garden with a dimpled grin.

“See you around?” Chan asks, bright and hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe,” Felix returns, matching his happy tune so close that he’s certain Chan can’t tell the notes fall flat. “Not here, though. No swimming, got it?”

“Yes, boss,” Chan laughs, saluting. He goes in for a hug, which takes Felix by such surprise that he returns the gesture. It’s a soggy affair, Felix still dripping and Chan still damp and both of them coated in a layer of sand. It’s nice enough nonetheless. It’s rare, too, being touched like this.

Chan flashes another smile, offers a final wave, and trots away into the brush. Felix watches him go, his heart sitting uncomfortably in his throat as he realizes Chan is heading in the same direction Felix needs to.

With a sigh, Felix resigns himself to take the long way home. Chan seems like the type of person who would see Felix trailing behind him, wait for him to catch up, and pull him into drawn-out conversation. Chan seems kind and friendly and like he would be interested in anything Felix has to say. For that, Felix hopes they never meet again.

When Felix gets home, he knows he has about an hour before his parents come back from work. He stashes his dirty, wet clothes in the laundry room and showers off the ocean in a spray of hot, unsalted water. Beneath the stream, Felix practices how to smile when his dad asks if he’s hungry, when his mom asks if he had a good day, when he says yes to both.

They eat grilled meat and vegetables for dinner and lots of fruit for dessert. Felix laughs when someone tells a joke and he smiles when someone looks his way and he eats even though it tastes like nothing.

Felix only goes to the beach on his days off. It’s not a far walk, but it’s taxing nonetheless. He doesn’t want to watch the flowers wilt day by day, doesn’t want to hear the water whisper to the rocks–just wants to show up when it’s time for a refresh and leave when the task is over.

But he can’t shake the feeling that Chan is there, swimming when he isn’t allowed to or messing with Felix’s garden when he isn’t allowed to. So, Felix goes to work and he goes to the beach after his shift. He paces along the shore, searching for a body in the water that isn’t there and hasn’t been there for a while now. The evening air is hot and the brush is full of bugs and if Felix squints, he thinks he can see flesh just beneath the surface. But he doesn’t see that. He never saw that.

Felix holds his breath for sixty-six seconds.

For eight days straight, Felix patroles his beach, vigilant in his desire to keep Chan out of that tide, safe and dry. On day nine, he remembers that Chan was swimming in the morning when they met. Felix has been going in the evening. Felix is a fool.

For another eight days straight, Felix gets up three hours earlier than usual. He stands guard on the sand, letting it dust his shoes as he admires the sunrise and the air turning crisp with autumn approaching. He doesn’t see Chan in the mornings. He doesn’t see Chan when he returns again at the end of his shifts, either. He doesn’t see Chan until several weeks after he tried and failed to save his life.

“Okay, you’re all set,” Felix says, smiling bright and happy at a customer buying an armful of video games.

“Thanks, man.”

“No worries! Have a good one!”

Felix steps away from the checkout counter to organize the music section that recently fell victim to a group of unattended children. He sighs at the disorder of it, internally grateful that Murph is out today. He can’t chastise Felix for a job poorly done when he’s the only one working, as is often the case.

“Felix?” a voice says from behind him. He turns to find a distantly familiar face–blue eyes, dark hair, big smile. “Oh, my God! I was passing by and I was like wait, is that Felix from high school? And look! It’s you!”

“It’s me, Felix from high school,” Felix says, grinning as he continues to search for her name. Emily, he thinks.

“What are you buying?” she asks, glancing over the selection of CDs.

“Oh, nothing. I work here.”

“Really? Here?”

“Yep,” Felix says, his smile growing tense with the effort of maintenance. She stares at him with her mouth slightly ajar, her brow slightly creased.

“Is uni going alright at least?”

“I’m not in school.”

“Oh…” Emily blinks, horror briefly crossing her face before she turns it into something perfectly pleasant. “Oh! Well, this is super cool, too! I bet you get to play so many video games.”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Felix says. He turns away from her then, focusing instead on straightening row after row of albums.

“It’s so crazy running into you like this,” Emily continues, trailing after Felix as he works. “I always thought you would wind up doing something really cool, like…travel the world or become a movie star or whatever. But, I mean, the mall isn’t bad, either!”

“A movie star?” Felix asks. He’s aware that when she says the mall isn’t bad, she means the mall is kind of pathetic. The mall is for losers who graduated high school and never moved away, never moved on, never will. The mall is for people like Felix and people like Felix don’t become movie stars. They don’t become anything.

“Yeah! You were always so bubbly and charming. It would suit you.”

“Ah, well,” he chuckles, gesturing around the shelves of DVDs they have on display. “I’m halfway there. Plenty of movies, just missing the stars.”

By the time Emily leaves, Felix has convinced her to purchase a video game for her boyfriend–a dating simulator that has terrible reviews across every demographic. Felix tells her he’ll love it. Emily tells him good luck with everything. Felix tells himself he will not cry because she means well. Felix tells himself it’s time for a quick break.

Felix goes again to the little ice cream shop a few doors down. He keeps his eyes cast low and his breath held, staring blankly at the flavors before him.

“Hard to choose, right?”

“Yeah, it’s–oh!” Felix startles when he looks up to find Chan standing there in a silly, pink-striped apron and a white hat. He laughs at Felix from behind the counter, brandishing a scoop and a smile.

“Hey, hero!” Chan says. “Nice to see you again.”

“What are you doing here?” Felix asks, his face heating up.

“Just chilling,” Chan says. “Get it? Because of all the ice cream?”

“Since when?” Felix blinks, certain it wasn’t Chan who served him last time.

“I just started, like, two days ago,” Chan shrugs. “So, if I do a bad job, please don’t tell my manager.”

“Wow,” Felix says. He glances over his shoulder at Murph’s, just barely visible behind a curved wall. “I work down there.”

“Really?” Chan perks up. “We should take our lunch breaks together!”

“Oh, um…” Felix blinks, turning wide, uncertain eyes back toward Chan. “Yeah, maybe! If they line up!”

“No pressure,” Chan smiles. “I will, however, pressure you into getting some of the gelato.”

“What’s the difference between regular ice cream and gelato?” Felix asks, shifting his gaze to a separate section of the ice cream display set aside for premium gelato, according to the sign.

“Don’t know,” Chan shrugs. “It’s Italian, I think.”

“Are Italians really good at ice cream?”

“Don’t know. Try it and find out.”

“It’s a bit expensive…” Felix mumbles, his brow furrowing at the premium price for premium gelato.

“Here, free sample,” Chan says.

There’s a small bucket of brightly colored spoons available for customers to try a bite of any flavor they like. Felix has never bothered to ask for one, but he’s happy to benefit from Chan’s initiative.

When Felix looks up, however, Chan is not handing over a sample. He’s handing Felix an entire cup of mint chocolate chip gelato piled high with two scoops.

“Dude, that’s way too much!” Felix balks, accepting it anyway.

“Nah.”

“I have to pay for this.”

“Says who?”

“Says the law!”

“I’m the law around these parts,” Chan says, attempting to spin his ice cream scoop around his finger like a pistol. It clatters to the ground loud enough to turn the heads of passersby, but Chan doesn’t stoop to pick it up. “Just don’t tell my manager and we’re all good.”

“You’re crazy,” Felix says, shaking his head. “You’re going to get fired.”

Despite his hesitation, Felix tries the free sample and oh, it’s quite nice. Sweet but not too sweet; sharp and rich and melting happily on his tongue. Maybe Italians are really good at ice cream after all.

“Good?” Chan asks, watching him closely.

“Yeah, thank you,” Felix smiles. Without payment to signify the end of their interaction, Felix doesn’t know how to exit. So, he just exits, turning on his heel to wander back to his place of employment without another word.

...

The first time Felix knows something is different, he’s seven years old. The girls in his class love to talk about boys, but not to boys. They sit in a circle on the ground and whisper among themselves. Do you like anyone in our class? No, you can’t like Lou because I like Lou. My mom says I’m not allowed to talk to boys until I’m married. My mom says boys have cooties. Cooties aren’t real. Don’t tell anyone about my crush. I already said you can’t like Lou!

If one of the boys in question approaches this circle, the girls scream and scatter. Unless it’s Felix.

Felix is allowed to join them. Felix is allowed to braid their hair and share their snacks and share their secrets, too. Felix is allowed to wrinkle his nose when someone’s crush is gross and he’s allowed to giggle when someone’s crush is cute. Felix is allowed to talk, too.

“What about you? Do you like anyone in our class?”

“Zac shared his cookie with me yesterday,” Felix says, remembering the chocolate chips fondly. “So, I really like him.”

“We meant, do you like any of the girls?”

Felix used to think Danielle was sweet and funny and way better at math than him. He used to follow her around on the playground and she would let him do it. She would catch bugs and put them in his hands and he would hold them until she built a small house out of dirt and sticks. Felix would put the bugs inside and he would smile and laugh and he would follow Danielle some more.

The boys in his class poked fun at him for this. The crush was obvious–he never really cared to hide it like the other kids. He didn’t mind when they giggled, when they threatened to tell Danielle about it, when they made kissy noises at the two of them. He liked her. She was good at math.

“No. I just like Zac.”

Having a crush on Danielle is not the same as having a crush on Zac. Instead of laughing, teasing, having fun with it, the boys in his class steal his shoes and throw them at his head as hard as they can. That’ll knock some sense into you, they say.

Felix ties his shoes extra tight. It doesn’t matter.

Zac finds Felix on the beach after school, wiggling his toes in the sand and grinning at the sea. He takes Felix’s shoes, runs as fast as he can, and throws them so far into the ocean that Felix doesn’t see where they land.

He swims after them anyway, struggling against the waves and the clock to find his sneakers before they sink. He does find them, soggy and smelling like salt, and the next day at school he smashes one of them into Zac’s face hard enough to break his nose.

Felix gets into so much trouble that he never does anything like that again. But, neither do the other boys.

...

Chan is sweet. He smiles big and real and bright enough to blind every time Felix sees him, which is more often these days. He doesn’t get ice cream very much because Chan won’t let him pay and that’s more stressful than spending the money would be.

Sometimes they see each other when their lunch breaks align and their taste buds align and they’re both eating Hungry Jack’s at a table barely big enough for one. Sometimes they see each other when they’re closing up, walking out, saying goodnight. Sometimes they see each other in the mornings, too, but never at the beach and never as often as Chan seems to want.

“What are you up to tonight?”

“When’s your next day off?”

“What’s your schedule like this week?”

He always wants to know what Felix does in his spare time, what he does for fun, who he hangs out with. Felix doesn’t have the heart to tell him the answer is nothing, nothing, no one. So, he tells him too busy, tons, everyone instead. Chan accepts the answers easily enough. He’s the too busy, tons, everyone type himself.

Sometimes Felix sees Chan when Chan doesn’t see him. He talks to people. He texts people. He gets numbers, shares sodas, laughs so loud it echoes throughout the mall. He fits well into this city that was his, wasn’t his, is his again. It’s a type of belonging that Felix misses.

As the weather outside begins to cool down, Chan begins to take on a new shift. It doesn’t matter much to Felix, who works nearly all day, nearly every day. If Chan is around, Felix will see him. But now he sees him in the afternoons and the evenings more than in the mornings. Now he sees him closing up the ice cream shop after Felix has done the same at Murph’s. Now he sees him struggling to pull down the security gate, yanking hard on it once, twice, three times before it slams into the ground, mashing his fingers into the tile. He yelps, instinctually trying to pull away but he doesn’t manage it.

“Shit!” Felix gasps and rushes over, nearly tripping in his haste. He latches onto the gate and tugs it up, up until it’s high enough for Chan to jerk himself free, grimacing down at his bruised and battered fingers. “That looks bad. Where’s your first aid kit?”

Felix yanks the gate higher and shimmies beneath it into the ice cream shop, ignoring Chan’s wordless exclamation of surprise and his noisy attempt at following.

“It’s fine, Lix.”

“Back here?” Felix asks, letting himself behind the counter. He scours the shelves, quickly spotting a small white box that looks like the perfect spot for some bandages.

“No, really–”

“Sit down.”

“Yes, boss,” Chan says, settling onto the freshly mopped floor of the ice cream shop.

“Can you bend them?” Felix asks, squatting next to Chan as he rifles through what is, in fact, a first aid kit. He pulls out bandages, disinfectant, and a cotton swab.

“Yeah.”

“Does it hurt to?”

“A little.”

“Okay,” Felix nods. He takes Chan’s left hand without permission and Chan lets him do it. He holds up the right hand as well, ready and willing, but Felix can only do one at a time. “I’m going to, um, clean the cuts.”

It stings if the little gasps of pain are anything to go by, but Chan is brave about it nonetheless, flashing his dimples at Felix every time they make eye contact. Next, bandages. Next, the right hand. And finally, ice.

“My hero, yet again,” Chan grins, clutching a bucket of pistachio gelato in his hands. As silly as he looks, the cold should reduce any swelling, which is why Felix insisted.

“Anybody would’ve done it,” Felix shrugs, putting the first aid kit back.

“Not true. Want a scoop?”

“You shouldn’t scoop with injured fingers.”

“Come on,” Chan laughs. “I’ll be careful.”

Felix presses his lips together, his gaze flicking between Chan’s bandaged hands, his bucket of ice cream, and his big, pleading eyes.

They share a cup this time, using the sample spoons to dig out tiny bites. Felix doesn’t prefer pistachio-flavored things, but sitting on this floor with this man, he finds the taste irresistible.

“How’s the garden?” Chan asks once their treat is almost gone.

“Same as always.”

“So, dying and mostly dirt?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Chan laughs, knocking his shoulder against Felix’s. “You know, my mom is pretty good at that kind of stuff. I can ask her for tips on growing something for real so you don’t have to tend it all the time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Felix says, standing to throw away their empty cup. “If I lose that routine, I might go insane and try to die or something.”

He laughs because it is a little funny, a little melodramatic, but when he turns his smile back to Chan, there is no laughter there. Instead he finds a knit brow, a pair of lips slightly parted, a set of bruised fingers tensing against a bucket of delicious pistachio gelato.

“What?” Chan asks.

“Oh, I just meant,” Felix flounders, shaking his head as if doing so will dislodge an explanation. “Routine is comfortable, you know? I’d feel weird without it.”

“Are you okay, Felix?”

“Yeah, of course!” Felix chirps, his voice high-pitched and strained. “Sorry. Bad joke.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Promise. How are your fingers?”

“Numb.”

“Uh oh.”

With a little help from Felix, Chan puts the ice cream away, locks the store back up, and closes the security gate without further injury. The mall is abandoned as they walk through it, so still and silent without patrons and outdated music filtering through the speakers.

Chan chatters as they walk, but Felix doesn’t listen. He holds his breath for thirty seconds, forty seconds, fifty until they reach the exit.

“Is it push?” Felix asks, tugging on the door handle. It rattles in his grip, refusing to open for him.

“No, it says pull,” Chan mumbles. He walks to another set of doors just to their left and pulls, pushes for good measure, pulls again. “Shit.”

“All of them?”

“Locked.”

“There’s another entrance.”

They go. They pull, they push for good measure, they pull again.

“Shit,” Chan laughs. “We’re locked in.”

“Wait, but…” Felix begins, his mind racing with the realization. “How do we–what if–”

“Hey, no worries,” Chan says, bumping their shoulders together again. “There’s an emergency phone near one of the bathrooms. Gets hold of the security company.”

“How do you know that?” Felix asks, following as Chan leads the way. They walk slowly, calmly, as if being trapped isn’t anything to worry about. Felix is worrying about it, but watching Chan’s relaxed face and matching his relaxed pace makes it hard to care so much.

“It was in the employee handbook.”

“You read your employee handbook?”

“I have a lot of time to kill when the store’s empty,” Chan says. “I’d rather spend that time hanging out with my new friend Felix, but he avoids me most days.”

“I do not!”

“You do, too.”

“I’m busy!”

“Not that busy. Look–” Chan says, pointing toward a clothing store that targets tweens and teens. “The people who work here are always fighting with each other. Ally has a thing for Brennan, but Brennan has a thing for Siobhan, but Siobhan has a boyfriend who works at the cell phone kiosk.”

“A kiosk guy?” Felix gasps.

“Right? And he’s cheating on her.”

“No!”

“Yeah. With Izzy. She works at Hungry Jack’s.”

“Is she the girl with–”

“–The bleached hair? Yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Felix breathes. “Does she know the kiosk guy is taken?”

“She does,” Chan says, leaning in conspiratorially. His eyes sparkle as he says, “I told her.”

“Why are you involved in all of this?”

“Because they tell me about it,” Chan says. “They all come over to the ice cream shop during their breaks. They get a scoop, I get the scoop.”

“Wow…”

“Laugh at my joke, please.”

The request takes Felix by such surprise that he does laugh–a genuine, foreign sound that bursts from his chest unexpectedly. It ricochets from wall to wall, ceiling to floor in the empty mall, enjoyed by Chan and Chan alone.

“There it is,” Chan says, grinning as he watches Felix’s joy.

“What?”

“A real smile.”

“A real…” Felix trails off, the corners of his lips slowly turning down.

“You’re always giving me these customer service smiles,” Chan says, breaking eye contact to focus instead on where they’re going. “Thought you hated me for a second there.”

“Oh, sorry. I don’t hate you.”

“S’okay,” Chan says, tossing a wink his way.

Felix doesn’t need to look to know his neck, his cheeks, his ears are bright red. It’s embarrassing to have been caught in his falsehood and it’s even more embarrassing to be caught expressing something authentic. He wills away the smile on his face as punishment for its betrayal, then resigns himself to practicing in the mirror again once he gets home.

“But, anyway,” Chan continues. “Like I was saying. Nobody in this mall is ever too busy to take a break with me.”

“Okay, fine,” Felix says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll come see you more often. But you can’t give me free ice cream. You’ll go out of business if half the mall is stopping by.”

“What do you mean? I don’t give free ice cream to everybody,” Chan says, pausing in front of the bathrooms. There sits a nondescript payphone–the kind Felix has seen in movies, but never actually used. “Ah, here we are.”

Felix pats his pockets in search of a coin, but Chan is already dialing, already speaking to the emergency line, already explaining their situation. It’s quiet for just a moment before Chan says, “Yeah, thanks. Bye.”

“Well?” Felix asks, fiddling with his fingers.

“It’ll be a few hours.”

“A few!? It’s already 10:45!”

“Don’t know what to tell you,” Chan sighs.

“I should text my parents,” Felix mumbles, pulling out his phone to do just that.

“Oh, yeah,” Chan says, copying his movements. “Me, too.”

“You, too?”

“…Yeah?”

“You live with your parents?” Felix asks, blinking at Chan.

“Yeah?” Chan says, more like a question than an answer. “Why, is that weird?”

“No, sorry,” Felix says quickly, shaking his head so fast it dislodges a lock of hair. “I mean, I live with mine, too. Obviously. I guess I’m just used to people our age having their own place or dorms or something. Sorry.”

“It’s not permanent or anything,” Chan says, shrugging one shoulder. “Like I said, I only just moved back to this country. I need some time to settle in. I’ve got a real job lined up and once I get comfortable with that, I’ll get a flat. My childhood bedroom works okay for now, though.”

“Ah, right,” Felix says, his throat feeling dry. “I have a real job lined up, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Felix says. He sends off his text, puts his phone away, and then lets his feet walk him forward, forward, forward in aimless movement. “Murph, my manager, wants me to take over the store once he retires. I don’t know if you’ve seen him, but if you have, you know that’s coming soon.”

“So, you’ll run it? Or own it?”

“Own it,” Felix decides. “He’s passing it on to me.”

“Wow,” Chan says, drawing the word out with his admiration. “A business owner. And so young, too.”

“Well,” Felix chuckles. “Not yet.”

And not ever. Murph has retirement plans in that every few months, he claims he’s too old to be working like this. Every few months, he threatens to abandon ship and leave the store to Felix–not to own, but to manage. He’s been making that threat ever since Felix started working for him three years ago, though, and Felix thinks he’ll continue to make it for at least the next ten. By then, Murph’s Media Emporium will almost certainly have gone out of business.

“Is that the dream?” Chan asks, keeping pace with Felix as they wander.

“What?”

“Owning a business.”

“I guess,” Felix shrugs. “I mean, it’s fine. As long as I can afford to live, you know?”

“So, no,” Chan says. “It works, but it’s not the dream.”

“It’s fine,” Felix says again. There was a time when Felix had plans for the future. He wanted to go to school and study something interesting and get a job that lets him talk all day long. He wanted to rent a tiny apartment with his friends that they could barely afford and he wanted to eat cup noodles every night. He wanted and he wanted and now all he wants is to visit the beach on his days off, plant some new flowers, and pretend they won’t die this time. Now all he wants is to go home where he lives with his parents and not think about what comes next because nothing comes next. This is it. “After high school, I thought I’d travel the world or become a movie star. But the mall feels a lot more doable.”

“Movie star, huh?” Chan grins. He stares at Felix’s side profile, then jogs up ahead. He turns around, walking backward with a hand on his chin as he watches Felix from the front. He hums, really thinking it over, before he says, “Yeah, I can see it. You’ve got the look, the voice–everyone would love you.”

“Would you see my films?” Felix asks, holding back a laugh as Chan stumbles. He catches his balance quickly, then catches Felix snickering. He rolls his eyes big and exaggerated before falling back in line with Felix, matching him step for step.

“I would own them on DVD,” he says, very serious. “On Bluray, even.”

“You can come to the red carpet premiere if you want.”

“Really! What’s the vibe? What are we wearing?”

“Matching suits.”

“Fancy.”

“Bowties.”

“Ooh, la la.”

“And we pose exclusively like this–” Felix pauses, puffs out his cheeks, and throws up a peace sign on each hand. Chan laughs, then whips out his phone so fast that Felix doesn’t have a chance to react before the camera goes off.

“So cute,” Chan coos, showing Felix the photo.

“Shut up!” Felix swipes at the phone, but Chan dodges him easily.

“I mean it!” Chan says. “Here, give me your number. This has to be your contact photo.”

Felix is hardly a real person. He masquerades as sunshine smiling big and bright, as a happy helper and a satisfied son. He does not seek joy in taste or flesh or friends and he does not seek relief from his loneliness because his loneliness is on purpose. His loneliness is punishment. His loneliness is what keeps him alive—not living, but heart beating and blood pumping. Felix is hardly ambitious, hardly planning for the future, hardly anything at all.

But in this moment, Felix is a little bit excited to have Chan's number. He’s a little bit curious if Chan will actually text him. He’s a little bit nervous, too, because he wants Chan to text him. It’s a wrong way to feel, but he feels it anyway.

“Where should we go after the premiere?” Chan asks, tucking his phone away once he’s satisfied.

“Maybe to get some food?” Felix muses. “We’d probably be hungry.”

“No, I mean,” Chan says, gesturing with wide arms. “Where in the world? You wanted to travel, right?”

“Oh,” Felix says, having forgotten that part. “Yeah. Um…You said you lived in Seoul? What was that like?”

“It was cool,” Chan shrugs. “A bit scary because I moved there on my own. But I really wanted to swim.”

“It was for college, right? Like, a swim team?”

“Swim team, yes,” Chan nods. “College, no. I was seventeen. Olympic hopeful.”

“Woah.”

“Don’t do that. It’s really not impressive.”

“It’s extremely impressive,” Felix scoffs.

“Nah,” Chan says, waving his hand. “I didn’t make the team. I trained for several years and was really close, but never got there. I was injured at my peak and everything just kind of fell apart. So, came back.”

“Oh, no,” Felix says, his brow wrinkling in concern. “I’m so sorry. That’s, what? Five years of training?”

“Eight years,” Chan smiles. “It’s okay. Happens all the time.”

“Yeah, but…oh!” Felix gasps, his mind alight with the memory of treading water. “Oh, shit. Did I hurt you?”

“What?”

“At the beach,” Felix says, halting his movement completely. “When I got on your back and made you swim us to shore and–”

“No, no,” Chan laughs, coming to a stop in front of Felix. “That was fine. No worries at all.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Chan locks their pinkies together, solidifying his words with a wink. With warm skin on warm skin, Felix decides it’s not so bad to be trapped in the mall as long as he’s trapped with Chan. He hopes Chan feels the same and he hopes Chan doesn’t notice when Felix keeps their pinkies interlocked for longer than he should and he hopes again that Chan thinks it’s normal when Felix suddenly breaks away, when his cheeks flare red, when he turns without warning and heads straight for the nearest bench.

Chan laughs as he watches Felix go, his gaze burning hot on the back of Felix’s neck. He doesn’t follow, but instead takes off down the empty hall in a jog, doing lap after lap to burn off excess energy. Felix watches him pass by and by again, smiling as Chan jumps into the air. He tries and fails to touch a sign that hangs from the ceiling–one that advertises a jewelry shop. Chan keeps running, leisurely with it, and keeps leaping for the sign as he passes beneath.

When Chan finally jumps high enough to smack the sign, at first Felix thinks to cheer. But when Chan shrieks in pain, he thinks to panic instead.

“What happened!” Felix calls out, scrambling from his bench to Chan’s side. He hovers over Chan writhing on the floor, his face caught somewhere between laughter and tears.

“My fingers! I forgot!” he exclaims, holding up his injured, bandaged hand that he used to slap a wooden sign.

“You…” Felix trails off, his concern turning to exasperation. “Oh, my God. Come sit down. You’re in timeout.”

“Yes, boss,” Chan pouts, getting to his feet. He lets his head hand comically low as he follows Felix back to the bench, plopping down onto it with a sigh. “You should run laps in my place.”

“Absolutely not.”

Despite his punishment, Chan cannot stop himself from moving. He stands, does a few jumping jacks, sits. He stands, does a few squats, sits. He goes to stand again, but Felix places a firm hand on his knee, keeping him in place lest he run off and injure himself for the third time in one night.

“So, Seoul?” Chan asks, bouncing his leg under Felix’s touch, but making no move to stand again.

“Hm?”

“That’s where you want to go?” Chan says. “I can show you around.”

“Oh,” Felix blinks. “I don’t know. It would be cool. My Korean is so-so…”

“Mine’s pretty good.”

“I’ve honestly never been anywhere,” Felix admits, absentmindedly scratching at the fabric of Chan’s pants. “It might be cool to just go to other parts of Australia. Easier, too.”

“A buddy of mine did a coastal road trip from here to Brisbane,” Chan says. “Said it was stunning.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Can you drive?”

“Technically,” Felix says. “I don’t, though. Just use public transit or have my parents take me somewhere if I have to.”

“We should get an RV,” Chan grins, leaning in conspiratorially.

“An RV!”

“Yeah,” Chan nods. “Probably super easy to drive along winding cliffside roads, don’t you think?”

“You want to kill us,” Felix laughs.

“Think about it!”

“Okay,” Felix says. He closes his eyes, then taps on his chin as if lost in deep, troublesome thought. “Ah…ooh…oh…yeah, no. Bad idea.”

“What about a regular car?” Chan asks. When Felix opens his eyes again, he sees that Chan has scooted closer. “Like a van or something?”

“What about staying home where it’s safe?”

“What about living a little?” Chan asks, shifting closer still. Their thighs press together on the bench and again Felix realizes his touch has lingered too long. He lifts his hand from Chan’s leg, only for it to be pressed down again, trapped beneath Chan’s own. “You said you wanted to travel.”

Chan’s eyes grow round and his lips grow pouty. He’s close enough now that Felix can feel his breath fan across his face with each inhale, exhale. He’s cute, Felix thinks. He’s handsome, too, and he smells like sugar. It’s all very persuasive. It’s all very familiar, and that familiarity breaks him from Chan’s spell.

“God, you’re just like Jisung,” Felix mumbles to himself, finally extracting his hand from Chan’s knee. “I think I can happily live my life right here, thank you very much.”

“Jisung?” Chan blinks.

“What?”

“Who’s Jisung?”

“He’s…oh,” Felix says. Stupid, stupid, stupid to bring up Jisung. Stupid, stupid, stupid to let Chan get inside his head like this, wriggle free his latent tongue and his latent heart, too. “Sorry. He’s my, uh. Boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Chan says, the word coming out like a squeak. He slides away from Felix until he’s on the opposite side of the bench, pressed firmly into the armrest. “How long have you been together?”

“Since high school.”

“Oh, wow,” Chan breathes, staring at some invisible point in the near distance. “So it’s pretty serious, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Felix shrugs, his chest growing tight. “I love him. I think I always will.”

“Wow,” Chan says again. “Yeah, woah. Wow. Congrats, dude. Maybe you could go on a roadtrip with him. That could be romantic.”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah,” Chan nods. “I’m single right now, by the way. There are lots of pretty girls around but, yeah. Need to get my life together before doing all that, I think.”

“Really?” Felix asks, cocking his head. “No interest in pursuing a kiosk guy?”

“A kiosk guy?” Chan balks, his eyes growing huge, almost scared, as they lock onto Felix’s own. His mouth drops open as if in shock before it clicks in his head. “No, I–oh! Ha, right! Because of that story I told. Right. Well, maybe once I get my own place. If my future partner has a kickass kiosk, I need a kickass flat to show off.”

Chan springs from the bench again before Felix has the chance to stop him. He holds his breath as he watches Chan jog away toward the center of the mall. He disappears from sight for one second, two seconds, three when Felix hears a distinct splash.

“Chan?” he calls out, nearly tripping as he stands and begins to hurry toward the noise. He finds Chan with his feet bare and his pants rolled up, standing in the fountain at which Felix often spends his breaks. “What the hell!”

“I’ve always wanted to do something like this,” Chan grins.

“Something like what? Going to jail?” Felix scoffs, approaching the edge of the fountain trepidatiously.

“Get in!”

“No way.”

“It’s fun!”

“You’re crazy!”

“Who’s going to know?”

“Plenty of people if they care to look,” Felix says, pointing out a handful of security cameras scattered about the ceiling, some aimed at them, some aimed elsewhere.

“Oh…” Chan says, the smile falling from his face. He glances around as if someone is on their way not to free them from the mall, but to arrest them as Felix suggested. He looks nervous in a way that doesn’t suit him, Felix thinks. He doesn’t like it, Felix thinks. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

With a sigh, an eye roll, and a quick discarding of his own shoes, Felix joins Chan in the fountain. Fuck it, Felix thinks. Chan deserves to have a little fun, Felix thinks.

He’s cautious at first, afraid of slipping on the smooth tiles and hitting his head and drowning in front of Chan–tragic and embarrassing both–but then Chan splashes him a little, then Chan splashes him a lot. Fuck it, Felix thinks. He splashes Chan back.

They call a truce almost as soon as they declare war, both soaked through and dripping. The floor around the fountain fairs no better, so they hold hands as they climb out, careful to keep each other upright.

“Hey, uh,” Chan says once their feet are on solid ground.

“What’s up?”

“When we were on the bench earlier and I was leaning against you…”

“Uh huh?”

“Do you think that looked…” Chan trails off. He releases Felix’s arm, then waves his hands in the air as if clearing away a haze. “Weird? To the security cameras?”

“Weird how?” Felix asks. He stoops to pick up their socks and shoes, realizing too late that they were in the path of all the splashing. He hands over Chan’s, but neither puts them back on.

“I mean, you have a boyfriend and I was all in your face,” Chan says. “At the right angle, it could’ve looked suspicious.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Felix shrugs. “Jisung isn’t going to, like, watch the footage or anything. It’s fine.”

“Right,” Chan nods. He chews his lip, glancing again at each security camera. “Yeah, sorry. It’s fine. We should probably just sit until security gets here. Don’t want to walk around barefoot, but don’t want to put wet shoes on either, you know?”

In agreement, they return to their bench, tracking water along the ground as they go. They sit apart at first, separated by so much space that two more people could fit between them. But as the night grows darker and their eyes grow heavier, they drift together, meeting each other in the middle. Felix leans his shoulder against Chan’s, grateful for how sturdy he is, and Chan does the same.

Felix isn’t sure how long they sit like that, warm despite their wet clothes and nodding off despite their situation. All he knows is that the next time his eyes open, it’s at the sound of a door banging and a voice shouting that it’s time to go.

They jolt to their feet, half awake as they sprint for the exit. It’s only when they feel the autumn chill beneath their soles that they remember the socks and shoes still dangling from their hands. Felix can’t help but laugh at the state of them and Chan can’t help but join.

“Need a ride?” Chan asks, slipping his shoes on without the socks. “My mom’s on her way.”

“That’s okay,” Felix says, shaking his head. “I’ll just take one of the night buses.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Get some rest, okay? And be careful with that hand.”

“You got it,” Chan grins. He stares at Felix for just long enough to have an idea and execute it. He quickly pulls Felix into a tight hug, then says, “Thanks for keeping me company. There’s nobody I’d rather be trapped in a mall with.”

“Not even the kiosk guy?” Felix asks, returning the embrace easily.

“There’s one other person I’d rather be trapped in a mall with.”

When Felix gets home, he has a text from an unknown number waiting for him. He opens it to find a selfie of Chan posing with his cheeks puffed out and a peace sign on each hand. Felix doesn’t respond, but he does save the photo and he does assign it to Chan’s contact.

The next day, Felix plants new flowers in his garden and he watches the ocean water push and pull gently. His mind wanders the way it always does. He thinks of Jisung, misses Jisung, wonders how Jisung is doing, wonders if he’s mad, wonders if he misses Felix, too. But then his mind wanders in a new way. He thinks of Chan.

...

The second time Felix knows something is different, he’s thirteen years old. A new boy shows up in the middle of the year and sits in the middle of the class and never raises his hand. The teacher says this is Peter, please be kind to him. Peter doesn’t say anything at all, but Felix likes him nonetheless.

“Hi, Peter!” Felix says, greeting him for the first time on Peter’s second day. He’s met with silence, but Felix is never deterred by something so easily broken. He scoots his chair closer and pokes Peter’s shoulder. “Peter? Can you hear me?”

“Oh, sorry!” Peter exclaims a bit too loud. “Sorry! I’m still getting used to it.”

“To what?”

“Peter.”

“Your name?”

“My English name,” Peter nods. “I’m used to my Korean name.”

“What’s your Korean name?”

“Jisung.”

“Do you want me to call you Jisung?”

“Peter is okay. Or Jisung. Whatever’s easier.”

“No,” Felix giggles. “You have to choose.”

Peter thinks about it for just a second before he says, “I like Jisung.”

Jisung’s English is so-so but his Korean is perfect and Felix’s Korean is so-so but his English is perfect. They balance each other in a way that feels comfortable and quickly is born a friendship between them.

Felix shows Jisung around school, then around town, and when Jisung seems overwhelmed by it all, Felix draws him a map.

“This way you can always find me,” Felix grins, circling his own house in bright red marker.

Jisung uses the map quicker than expected, showing up at Felix’s front door with it clutched in his hands. He smiles trepidatiously with cheeks bright red when Felix answers.

“Jisung!”

“Hi.”

“You’re here!”

“Yeah. Do you…want to hang out?”

“Of course!”

Felix knows how to get to the nearest park, but he makes Jisung navigate with his map anyway. They get lost, but the detour leads them through a beautiful patch of flowers.

“What’s your favorite color?” Felix asks.

“Hm…anything is fine.”

“You have to choose.”

“I like it when a lot of colors mix together,” Jisung says. “Like how the ocean is different shades of blue and green. Or how these flowers are purple and red.”

The next morning, Felix gets up extra early. He returns to the flower patch and he picks the ones that are purple and red and he picks some that are yellow, too. He carries them to school and he sets them on Jisung’s desk and he waits for someone to poke fun at him, but nobody does. Least of all Jisung, who thanks him with a tight hug. Jisung smells like sugar and he looks like joy and Felix wants to be his best friend in the whole wide world.

So, Felix brings Jisung flowers the next day, too, and the next and the next and the next.

“You seem upset,” Felix says, staring at Jisung while he looks through a stack of albums. Jisung’s mom dragged him to the mall so she could meet up with a friend. Jisung dragged Felix to the mall so they could run off together unsupervised.

“Yeah,” Jisung sighs. “Just a little…what’s it called when you want to go back? Bone sick?”

“Bone sick?”

“Like an ache. When you miss something so bad you can feel it in your bones.”

“I think you mean homesick.”

“Maybe. But it’s more than just my home. I miss a lot of things. I miss everything. I can’t even put it into words.”

“I think a lot of people feel bone sick,” Felix says, placing a hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “I think it’s normal.”

“You do? You feel bone sick?”

“No, but…”

“It’s okay,” Jisung says, his smile tinged with sadness. “I’m glad you don’t.”

They leave Murph’s without buying anything, which makes Felix sad, but Jisung holds his hand as they wander through the mall, which makes his heart sing loud, loud, loud.

When they find Jisung’s mom again, she’s still with her friend and her friend’s son. Jisung gasps when he sees them because oh, he hadn’t realized and oh, that’s Hyunjin!

“Who?” Felix asks, but Jisung is already pulling away, already running to greet this new person, already excitedly tugging him into a hug.

“This is my friend!” Jisung exclaims once Felix catches up. “Hyunjin, this is Felix. He’s in my class. Felix, this is Hyunjin. Our moms know each other.”

“My English name is Sam,” Hyunjin says, offering Felix a wave.

“Nice to meet you!”

“You, too.”

“Hyunjin is probably my best friend in all of Australia,” Jisung says, bouncing in place. “I wish he went to our school. We could all hang out!”

The conversation continues after that, but Felix doesn’t hear a word of it. Instead, his hand tingles with the fading feeling of Jisung’s against it and his heart breaks in strange pieces and he realizes oh, it shouldn’t hurt like this. Oh, he likes Jisung so much and Jisung likes someone else more. Oh, he kind of wants to die.

...

Shifts in the middle of the day in the middle of the week are full of nothing and slower than sleep. Not that Felix minds. He likes that nobody comes in and nobody demands a smile from him. He likes that his vision can grow blurry with unfocus and he likes that his mind can fill with empty static.

When Felix visits the fountain during his break, he finds extra signs warning customers from getting into it. He shoots a quick glance at the nearest security camera, then stifles a laugh behind his hand.

When Felix returns to his post, he finds someone waiting outside for him. He finds that same person waiting for him the next day, the next day, every day that they’re both scheduled.

Soon, Felix’s shifts are full of Chan and sweeter than ice cream. Chan cracks jokes and Felix laughs. Chan tells stories and Felix listens. Chan flirts and Felix isn’t sure what to do.

“Come here often?”

“Working all by yourself, handsome?”

“All these movies for sale and the only thing I want to watch is you.”

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it a little. He’d be lying still if he said he didn’t appreciate the texts Chan sends throughout the day, the selfies, the videos of himself trying to do tricks with the ice cream scoop. He’d be lying most of all if he said Chan didn’t make him want.

“So,” Chan says, slapping both hands onto Felix’s checkout counter.

“So,” Felix returns, flicking Chan’s fingers until he removes them.

“The road trip.”

“What about it?”

“I feel like we missed our window,” Chan says. “Summer’s probably the perfect time for it, but it’s already winter.”

“Guess we should call it quits.”

“Nah. I was thinking we save up for the next several months, wait out winter and most of spring, and then we leave right before summer starts,” Chan says, holding up a finger for each point. “It’ll be hot, but not too hot.”

“That sounds nice,” Felix says and he means it. It feels strange to mean it. “But I’m still not convinced.”

“Pack your bags, Felix Lee,” Chan grins, reaching out to poke Felix’s nose. “We’re going on this trip.”

Felix watches Chan close the ice cream shop when their schedules allow. He tries to be stealthy about it, but Chan catches him every time. He’s overly careful with the gate, showing Felix that he’s got it, everything’s fine, no need to worry. Then, he forces Felix to leave with him. On time, of course. No more getting locked in, of course.

“It would be good for warding off vampires.”

“And for warding off customers.”

“Some people really like garlic!”

“Not in ice cream, Chan!”

“But–” Chan cuts himself off, gasping when he sees someone loitering outside the mall on his phone. “Hey!” Chan calls out loud enough to catch the stranger’s attention. The noise startles him enough to make him jolt, his head whipping around in their direction. Felix’s breath catches in his throat when he sees who it is.

“Hi Chan,” he greets as they approach. “Felix.”

“Hey, Hyunjin,” Felix says, a shaky smile spreading hesitantly across his lips. “Or are you still going by Sam?”

“Hyunjin’s fine.”

“You two know each other?” Chan asks, grinning as he looks between them.

“Used to,” Hyunjin nods. He stares at Felix, expressionless and still enough that Felix wonders if he isn’t some type of horrible mirage.

“Used to,” Felix echoes.

“Is you-know-who coming to pick you up?” Chan asks, wiggling his eyebrows at Hyunjin.

“Yep.”

“Okay…” Chan says, his face falling as the tension continues. “Well, we’re just getting off work. Tiring day. But I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

“Sure,” Hyunjin says. “Rest up.”

With one last dimpled grin, Chan grabs hold of Felix’s elbow and tugs him away. They walk in silence until Hyunjin’s lingering gaze can no longer be felt on the backs of their necks. The bus stop comes into view–beautifully empty–and Felix quickly slouches against the glass panels.

“Do you have beef with Hyunjin?” Chan asks, a disbelieving laugh escaping him.

“No, it’s not like that,” Felix sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just…he’s Jisung’s best friend.”

“And?”

“And…” He trails off, waving his hands while searching for the words. “It’s not that we don’t get along. But there’s a divide between us. I don’t know.”

“Got it,” Chan nods. “Must be tough when your boyfriend’s best friend doesn’t approve. Hyunjin is messed up in the head for that.”

“Oh,” Felix laughs. “I don’t think so.”

“By the way,” Chan says, perking up. “I’ve been meaning to ask…”

Chan wants to hang out because Chan always wants to hang out. Not at the mall, Felix. It doesn’t count if we’re at work, Felix. It’s not a date, so don’t worry, Felix. I respect your relationship, Felix.

He always says no when Chan asks for things like this, but it’s becoming harder and harder to turn him down. They have a road trip planned, after all. They’re going to spend days together, just the two of them, after all.

A week later, they find themselves at the beach–a normal one, big and bespeckled by others even though it’s way too cold to swim. Some people surf, some fish, most walk their dogs. Felix and Chan intend to follow in their footsteps, literally, but as soon as they begin to walk, it begins to rain.

A part of Felix is glad for it–no more ocean, no more people–but a bigger part of Felix is wet and cold and Chan is wet and cold and they turn to each other and wear matching laughter as they race back to Chan’s house.

It’s a nice place–two stories and clean and decorated with family photos. Chan leads Felix upstairs, shows him the bathroom, gets him clean clothes while he showers. They hang loose on Felix’s frame, but they hang warm, too. When it’s Chan’s turn to wash up, Felix lingers in his bedroom, marveling at the endless display of trophies and medals.

“I knew you were an Olympic-level athlete,” Felix begins once Chan cracks open the door. “But I didn’t realize you were this good.”

“Ah, it’s not that impressive,” Chan says, laughing shyly. Felix turns to chastise his humility, only to choke on his tongue instead. Chan meanders around the room, one towel around his waist and another running through his hair. It’s not the first time Felix has seen Chan barely clothed and shiny-wet, but it feels different now that he knows the person beyond the muscled physique. It feels inescapable, the way Felix’s heart beats not just for Chan’s arms and chest and back, but for his smile and kindness and care. “My skill level is: he’s the worst swimmer out of all the best swimmers. Or the best out of the worst, whichever you prefer.”

“Come on,” Felix says, rolling his eyes partially so he can look away and partially because he thinks Chan is being stupid.

“I want to take them down, honestly,” Chan says, standing with his hip cocked and his arms crossed. The towel around his waist slips down just enough to make Felix light-headed. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I just can’t do it.”

“Well,” Felix gulps, being normal. “You’ll get a break from it once you move out, right? No more walls full of trophies and stuff.”

“Right,” Chan nods, his eyes growing distant. “Once I move out. That’s true, I guess. It’s not like I’d take these with me.”

“Right.”

“Right. Hey, you like games, yeah?”

Felix does like games. He likes it when Chan finally gets dressed, when they settle down onto his bed, when Chan boots up his console. He likes it when Chan gasps in astonishment once Felix begins to cheat and he likes it even more when Chan retaliates. He likes it when Chan laughs at his antics, when Chan pushes at his shoulder, when Chan tackles him onto the mattress. He likes it when Chan pins him down, when Chan’s face lingers so close to his own, when Chan tells him cheaters never win.

Felix likes it most of all when Chan releases him only to look back at the TV screen and see that yes, actually, cheaters do win sometimes. Chan throws his hands into the air, accepting his defeat and flopping back onto the mattress.

“Sorry about earlier,” Chan says. “The wrestling. Got a little too close there, I think. Don’t tell Jisung.”

It sits ugly in his gut. Chan is so cautious about Jisung–never bringing him up except to apologize for crossing imaginary boundaries. Felix hates the sound of Jisung’s name coming out of Chan’s mouth when he uses it like that–so kind and so clueless.

“Chan,” Felix says after a moment. He stares at the TV screen displaying his victory, chewing on his lips as he considers his first truth.

“Yeah?”

“Jisung isn’t my boyfriend…anymore.”

“Oh, no,” Chan gasps, sitting upright again. He immediately puts an arm around Felix, studying his face for signs of distress that he surely finds. “I’m so sorry. I’ll kill Hyunjin if he had anything to do with it, just say the word.”

“No, it’s okay,” Felix giggles, unable to stop himself. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

“I doubt that.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Chan’s grip around Felix tightens. He pulls Felix down until his head rests atop Chan’s shoulder. He holds him like that for a long time. Felix hopes it’s forgivable.

“Can I tell you something, too?” Chan asks, running a hand up and down Felix’s arm.

“Of course.”

“There’s no real job lined up. I don’t actually have a plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“Swimming was all I had,” Chan says. “It was all I wanted, too. But then I got hurt and now I’m just…working at an ice cream shop. Living at home. No degree, no experience. Nothing. And I lied about it because it’s embarrassing, but being embarrassed about being embarrassed is also embarrassing. So, I’m trying to be brave by telling you the truth.”

“Well, thank you,” Felix says, nuzzling in closer. “But you know it’s okay, right? Your entire life changed unexpectedly and now you’re trying to figure out what’s next. That’s hard and it takes time. You’re doing well.”

His brain screams at him for that. It says, what’s it like to be a hypocrite? It says, why can that be true for him and not for you? It says, you’re still lying, you’re still lying, you’re still lying.

“Yeah,” Chan sighs. “I know. I just feel a bit like a loser. What if I’m stuck like this forever, you know?”

“Do you think I’m a loser?” Felix asks. “I work at the mall, too. I live at home, too. I don’t even have an excuse.”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you really shouldn’t think that about yourself.”

“Yeah,” Chan says. “Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, Felix. Jisung is an idiot for letting you go.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Felix says, laughter wry and poisoned dripping from his tongue.

“Trust me, he is. But anyway, now that you’ve healed my soul,” Chan says. He removes his arm from around Felix to face him head-on, that familiar, blinding grin spreading excitedly across his lips again. “Let’s talk about something fun.”

The road trip is ever present in Chan’s mind. He’s thought about it some more and oh, wouldn’t it be such a good reset? Wouldn’t it be so freeing? He’d really like to do it, Felix. Wouldn’t you really like to do it, Felix?

Felix has been thinking about it, too. He doesn’t make a lot of money from his job, but he doesn’t spend a lot of money on anything either. They could save up. Find a car. Stay in old motels and take pictures on disposable cameras.

Felix wants to say no, but it’s becoming harder and harder to turn him down.

...

The third time Felix knows something is different, he’s fifteen years old. He stares at Jisung all the time and thinks of Jisung all the time and hates it when Jisung doesn’t text him back because he’s too busy with Hyunjin.

There’s a beach quaint and secluded–not the kind for tourists and barely the kind for locals. It’s not the prettiest spot, not the best for walking or swimming or sunbathing either. The sand is surrounded by a small embankment of grassy earth, elevated just slightly. Felix asks Jisung to meet him there at sunset. He has something important to say. Please don’t be late.

Felix arrives two hours early with daisies in hand. He paces up and down the sand, practicing what he’s going to say.

“Jisung, you’re my favorite person.”

“Jisung, you’re not just a friend to me.”

“Jisung, it took me a while to realize, but I like you.”

When Jisung arrives, he greets Felix with a hug and a smile and a what’s wrong, Felix? It seems like something’s wrong, Felix.

Felix says please, nothing is wrong. Please, follow me up the embankment. Please, sit with me on the edge, look at the water, isn’t that nice?

It is nice. The sound of waves pushing, pulling, pushing again; the sound of sea breeze and pelicans; the sound of Felix trying and failing to find the words he just rehearsed.

“Jisung, I…”

“Jisung, do you…”

“Jisung, what if…”

Felix starts and stops so many times, panic begins to wriggle beneath Jisung’s skin. He grabs hold of Felix’s arm until their eyes meet, matching in their present fear.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Jisung asks.

“What?” Felix blinks. “No, we aren’t even dating.”

“Friends can break up, too!”

“That’s not what’s happening!”

“Then what is happening because I’m seriously about to cry!”

He doesn’t think about it. He just moves, just leans in, just presses his lips to Jisung’s lips. They kiss and it’s clumsy and strange and bad and Felix likes it so much. He likes it so much and he thinks he shouldn’t. He thinks he should knock some sense into both of their heads, but instead they keep kissing and keep kissing until they nearly slip off the cliff and into the ocean.

“Sorry for freaking out,” Jisung says once they pull away. He settles into Felix’s side, hugging his arm tight. “I’ve been emotional lately.”

“Feeling bone sick?”

“Yeah. Less when I’m with you, though.”

Felix is glad to be the one who makes Jisung feel less, and Jisung is glad to be the one who makes Felix feel more. More happy, more excited, more brave. Brave enough to ask Jisung to be his boyfriend and brave enough to tell the world about it. Brave enough to weather the pointed stares and whispers behind hands and brave enough to raise his fist should anyone speak about them too loudly. Brave enough for Jisung, who is brave enough for Felix in return.

...

Chan slams a binder onto the counter at Murph’s hard enough to rattle the DVDs on display. He looks around sheepishly, lets out a sigh of relief to find the store empty, and gets down to business.

The binder starts with different types of cars they can get for their road trip. Ideally one big enough to sleep in if they get desperate. They’re all used and likely to break down, but he thinks they could make it work. The middle of the binder is dedicated to stops along the way–beautiful beaches and interesting towns. It ends with accommodations–hotels, motels, restaurants, campgrounds. Everything they might need and then some.

“I’m not usually this prepared,” Chan admits, his cheeks pink as he watches Felix flip through their options. “But I figured it might make you feel better if it’s all laid out ahead of time.”

Felix wants to say yes, thank you, it helps a lot. Felix wants to say, maybe we shouldn’t go, maybe it’s still too risky. Both of those things would’ve been true a few months ago, but now all Felix can think is, I can’t say no to you. I would’ve gone with or without a plan. All Felix can think is, that’s the scariest part. Not the road trip, not the cost, none of it. Just you. Just you. Just you.

“We’re really doing this,” Felix breathes.

“We’re really doing this,” Chan echoes.
They really are. It takes all of winter and some of spring for Chan and Felix to save up enough between them to visit a car dealership, to pick out a used van, to walk away with a new set of keys. It’s old, it’s expensive, and it smells of cigarette smoke, but they’re excited nonetheless.

Felix drives the van home first. They clean out the interior for three days straight, working harder on eliminating any traces of grime than they’ve worked on anything before. By the time they’re done, it smells like sea salt and clean linen.

Chan drives the van to the store first. They pick up sleeping bags, trash bags, and other nonperishable, non-bag items that they’ll need should they find themselves using the van to camp. Chan shoos Felix away as he organizes the interior, meticulous about where he puts things. They have to be easy to access, Felix. We have to leave enough room for our bags and snacks and stuff, too, Felix. It can’t be visible from the outside either, Felix. No robberies while I’m around.

Felix drives the van to the beach first. A normal beach accessible by normal roads and normal people. They park on the sand, pop open the trunk, and sit facing the water. It’s cold in the evenings, but they have blankets and they have pillows and they have each other, too. Felix shivers and Chan pulls him closer. Felix shivers and Chan blows hot breath onto his fingers. Felix shivers and it has nothing to do with the chill.

“Should we skinny dip?” Chan asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“In this weather?”

Chan’s laugh rings loud and true across the open sky. Felix’s is much quieter, but it’s still there and it’s still real. It’s always real when he’s with Chan.

Chan drives the van around their neighborhood first. In a little while, it’ll be Felix’s turn. It’s nice to practice on smaller roads, to get used to the mechanics of it, to feel comfortable behind such a big wheel. But for now, Chan drives and Felix sits in the passenger seat and Chan talks about all the things they’ll see and Felix smiles at the sound of his voice and Chan says look, there’s Hyunjin! and Felix says we should leave him alone and Chan says nonsense!

Hyunjin shuffles along the sidewalk, his neck craned down as he types on his phone. He doesn’t notice them until Chan honks the horn, startling him.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” Hyunjin says. He crosses his arms and Felix tells himself it’s because of the wind, not because of him.

“Texting you-know-who?” Chan asks.

“What are you guys doing?” Hyunjin asks, brow furrowed as he studies their van.

“We’re going on a road trip!”

“Right now?”

“Nah, summer. Along the coast.”

“That sounds nice. But who’s going to serve me ice cream when you’re gone?”

“Sorry,” Chan grins. “You’ll have to go on your totally-not-dates with you-know-who somewhere else.”

“Well, have fun,” Hyunjin says, offering a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Send me postcards.”

They stay parked by the side of the road as Hyunjin resumes his walk, returning his attention to whatever message he was typing before. Felix watches him go, wondering if he should feel good or bad about his total exclusion from that conversation.

“So…Hyunjin’s dating someone?” Felix asks, glancing at Chan from the corner of his eye.

“God, don’t get me started,” Chan laughs. “If you ask me, yes. They came into my shop all nervous and shy. I gave them a lover’s discount, which doesn’t exist, but I wanted to see how they’d react.”

“And?”

“They blushed so hard. It was adorable.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” Chan nods. “I see Hyunjin around sometimes. I can’t tell if he likes it when I pry or not, but I can’t help it. I’m invested.”

“You’re nosy.”

“You’re enabling me,” Chan laughs, pushing Felix’s shoulder. “You asked.”

“Yeah…” Felix trails off, considering Hyunjin’s words. Who will serve him ice cream? Who will lock up Murph’s? Who will check out customers, tidy the shelves, all of it? He hadn’t thought to ask for time off. He hadn’t thought about any of it, too preoccupied with taking each breath in, each breath out to plan for the future. “Hey, um.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you tell your manager? About the trip?”

“Yeah,” Chan says. “They’re looking for a replacement for me to train before we head out.”

“You quit?” Felix says. “Like, fully resigned?”

“Yeah,” Chan shrugs. “We’re going to be away for weeks, Lix. They wouldn’t approve that amount of time off. I’ll get another job when we get back.”

“I didn’t realize you were going to do that,” Felix says, the words coming out tight.

“It’s okay,” Chan says, nudging him with a gentle fist. “Maybe this’ll give me the motivation I need to find that real job I was talking about.”

“Ice cream shop is a real job,” Felix mumbles, his vision going blurry as he loses himself in worry.

“Did you talk to Murph?” Chan asks, speaking slowly, cautiously, as if realizing the origins of Felix’s sudden concern. “It’s probably not too late to ask for an extended vacation or something, you know. He wants you to own the damn place, I’m sure he’ll be willing.”

“That…” Felix begins, unsure of what to confess. Yes, I’m up for a management position but no, I’m never going to get it. No, I’m never going to own the store. No, I never considered quitting because this job is awful and this job is stability but yes, I would like to be free of it. Yes, I would like to be more honest. “I don’t think any of that is going to pan out. I think it might be better to quit, too. Start over. Because things will be different once we get back, right? You’ll get a better job and I’ll…I’ll figure something else out, too?”

“Hell yeah!” Chan grins, pumping a fist into the air. “Fresh start!”

“Maybe…” Felix trails off, his eyes darting all over Chan as he thinks. There’s so much in this city, in this neighborhood that Felix can’t escape. There’s the mall and there’s the beach and there’s the garden and there’s Hyunjin and inside all of it, there’s Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. “Maybe we don’t even come back.”

“We don’t?” Chan asks, tilting his head as he considers it.

“Yeah. Maybe we just keep driving and driving until we find somewhere better.”

Felix looks at Chan and Chan looks back. In his eyes are so many questions, so much uncertainty, so much fear. It’s just a road trip, it’s just a few weeks, but it’s already thousands of dollars and it’s already so much time together and it’s already one heart beating faster than it should when Chan meets his gaze and there’s none of that. There is no fear in him, just something sparkling, just something kind, just something leaning across the center console.

“We could rent a flat together,” Chan suggests. “A shit one because I reckon we’re both broke, especially after all this. But, still.”

“You’d want to?” Felix asks, desperate for it.

“Yeah. Can you cook?”

“Egg sandwiches.”

“Not bad. We can learn more recipes together. I’ll make you something delicious.”

“Really?”

“Sure. And I’ll get a job and you’ll get a job and we’ll hang out every night.”

“Because we’re roommates.”

“Exactly. Do you like dogs?”

“Love dogs.”

“We could adopt one.”

“Together?”

“You’d be the best dog dad. We’d spoil her rotten.”

“Her?”

“I want a girl dog.”

“Okay.”

“You, me, a new city, a new apartment, new jobs, and a girl dog,” Chan grins. “Pretty perfect, yeah?”

“That sounds really nice,” Felix sighs, the exhalation nearly masking the sound of his heart cracking inside his chest.

There was a time when Felix had plans for the future–plans so similar to this with a boy so similar to this, too. Jisung isn’t like Chan in appearance or personality or drive. Jisung isn’t like Chan at all except for the way he makes Felix want. With Jisung, Felix wanted to be his friend and his lover and his entire life. Jisung made him so happy, so alive, so full. Chan, too, makes Felix want. Chan makes Felix dream about a new apartment and a new job and a girl dog. Chan makes Felix a binder full of roadstops and an oversized scoop of ice cream and most of all, Chan makes Felix so happy, so alive, so full.

It feels wrong to want all of this with someone who isn’t Jisung. Felix tells himself it’s okay, though, as long as Chan doesn’t want it, too. Because if Chan doesn’t want it, it’s not real and it’s not a betrayal and Jisung will understand.

“I think it sounds really nice, too,” Chan whispers. They’re close like this, leaning across the center console in their van, propped up on arms that press together in their limited space. Felix can smell Chan this close–sweet like sugar.

He holds his breath, hoping that without the conflict of lungs expanding, he can hear whatever’s happening behind Chan’s ribcage. Does his heart bang against its confines just like Felix’s? Does it leap at the idea of being this close, at the feeling of an exhale fanning across spring-pink cheeks, at the way Felix can’t help but look down at Chan’s lips?

“I like the idea of a future with you,” Chan says. He closes the distance between them and kisses Felix firmly, shattering the illusion that this is an illusion at all.

The first thing Felix thinks is oh, thank God. He feels good like this, lips pressed to lips and noses pressed to cheeks. He feels good and open and breathless in a wonderful way. Chan kisses him and kisses him and the center console digs into both of their stomachs, but Felix doesn’t care. It’s been a long time since someone has touched him in this way. It’s been a long time since he’s wanted it.

The second thing Felix thinks is oh, I can’t do this. Oh, this is wrong and oh, we have to stop and oh, what about Jisung? What about Jisung? What about Jisung?

Felix pulls away when his lungs scream for air and his throat nearly screams along with it.

“You…” Felix begins, struggling to breathe.

“Hm?” Chan hums, still staring at Felix’s lips, now red and swollen.

“How do you feel?” Felix asks quickly. “About me?”

“I really like you, Felix,” Chan says. “Fuck. Is that crazy? I just…God, I don’t know. I really like you.”

“Oh.”

“How do you feel?” Chan asks slowly, shy in a way Felix hasn’t seen him before.

He feels nauseous. Elated. Desperate. Dirty. Confused. Angry. Heartbroken. But he doesn’t say all of that–can’t say all of that.

“Bone sick.”

“What?”

“I feel bone sick.”

“What does–”

“Can you take me home?” Felix asks, tightening his seatbelt. He stares out the passenger window and shoves his hands beneath his thighs, refusing to let Chan see them shake.

“Felix, are you–”

“Please?”

They drive in silence and they part in silence and Felix unlocks his front door in silence and he eats dinner in silence and he showers in silence and he stares at himself in the mirror in silence and he wonders who is that? He wonders since when did you become this person? Since when did so much change?

Chan still comes by Murph’s every day and they still talk every day and Chan still asks are we good? Felix still answers of course! Chan still asks and the roadtrip? Felix still answers we’re going!

But Chan looks at him and Felix knows he can feel the change, too, despite all his big smiles and happy laughter. Chan sees through it–always could.

A week before their trip, Chan apologizes for kissing Felix.

“We can pretend it didn’t happen. We can go back to how things were.”

Five days before their trip, Chan nearly kisses Felix again.

“Sorry. You just had an eyelash on your cheek. Yeah. That’s all. Sorry.”

Three days before their trip, Chan tries to call it off.

“I want to go, obviously. I’m just saying–we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

One day before their trip, Felix makes so many mistakes at work that Murph sends him home early. Get some rest kid, he says. I’ll do better tomorrow, Felix says. He doesn’t say, I’m leaving for a few weeks. He doesn’t say, I may never come back. He doesn’t say, this is my resignation. Instead he says, I’ll do better tomorrow.

He cannot tell his boss that he’s leaving and he hasn’t told his parents that he’s leaving, but there is one person with whom a final goodbye he cannot avoid.

Felix does what he always does: flower shop, lilies this time, chat with nice owner. Tell her the bouquet is for nothing special. Laugh when she disbelieves. Laugh again when she wishes luck. Wave goodbye. Drop smile, walk toward home, veer off the road and into the brush. Wade through tall grass and scratchy shrubs until they give way to a small pocket of sand.

Felix knows, logically, that other people must come here. Besides himself, he’s only seen Chan and Jisung on this shore, but this beach is not a secret and this water does not belong to him and him alone. The only thing that does is the garden nestled at the top of the embankment, coloring the cliffside with wilted petals and greeting the morning sun every day.

Nobody ever bothers his garden, though they must see it from time to time.

Except now, the place where the earth begins to rise is roped off. Now, a sign warns visitors to stay away from the little cliff, telling of danger. Now, Felix’s heart begins to beat painfully fast as he ducks beneath the barrier, as he clambers up the grass, as he finds his garden disturbed. Gone are the orchids he planted last time and gone are the small hills of dirt keeping them upright. Gone is his sacred dedication to a love lost and gone is Felix’s ability to hold back

Felix falls to his knees and digs into the ground, some feral part of himself hoping that yes, the flowers are still there and yes, all he has to do is dig deep enough to find them. The dirt beneath his desperate hands is smoother than usual, somehow smoothed out by shovels or machines or both. Someone came here, someone saw his creation, someone deemed it worthy of destruction.

When Felix’s fingers begin to bleed with the effort of hopeless hope, Felix abandons the garden in favor of the cliff. He leans over it and stares at the water below, searching for flowers floating on the waves, laying on the rocks, anything.

But, of course, nothing.

Felix knows, logically, that other people must come here. But Felix thinks, foolishly, that the only person who knew of his garden was Chan.

He pulls out his phone, quickly finds the contact he visits most often, and presses call.

“Hello?”

“Did you do this?” Felix asks, the words coming out fast and blurry.

“What?”

“Did you?”

“What do you mean?” Chan says, his voice tinged with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Felix tells him everything is mutilated, everything is ugly, everything is wrong. Chan promises that no, he didn’t do this but yes, he can figure it out. There’s a sign, right? What does it say? Is there a number to call? A department in charge? Thank you, Felix. I’ll take care of this, Felix.

They disconnect just long enough for Chan to keep his promise. When he calls Felix back, it’s with trepidation.

The Parks and Recreation department was very lackadaisical about the whole thing. Oh, that weird patch of dirt? Those weird flowers? Yeah, they knew about it. Yeah, they got complaints. Yeah, you can’t have a public garden without a permit. Yeah, even weird gardens. Yeah, they tore it down. Yeah, they’ll do it again if it pops back up.

Felix clings to the sound of Chan’s voice as he delivers the news. He can barely breathe and barely see and barely feel the ground beneath his feet, but he can hear that voice and he can hear it especially when it’s not coming from just the phone. He turns to find Chan materializing through the brush and heading Felix’s way. He waves, hangs up the call, and jogs to meet Felix on the grass.

“Chan,” Felix sobs, letting himself be engulfed by a big, warm embrace.

“Hey,” Chan says, holding him close. He runs one hand down Felix’s back and another through his hair. “It’s okay. There’s a botanical garden thirty minutes away. What if we went there? Would that make you feel better?”

“No!” Felix wails. “It’s not–it’s not just gardens in general. It’s this garden in this spot because Jisung loved flowers and he loved this spot!”

“That must be hard,” Chan sighs, his movements stopping for long enough that Felix thinks oh, I’ve made him mad. Oh, I’ve said the wrong thing. But then Chan moves again and Chan speaks again, too. “You know, I was dating someone before I left. In Korea, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It ended, though. And sometimes the best way to get over someone is to distance yourself from that person as much as possible. Maybe the garden needed to go.”

“You don’t understand,” Felix says, detaching himself completely from Chan’s touch. He wipes away his tears roughly, caring little for the delicate flesh beneath his callous sleeve. He stares over his shoulder at the garden that’s no longer a garden, the memorial that’s no longer a memorial, the private space that’s no longer private and never really was.

“Maybe not. But I’d like to.”

“Jisung didn’t break up with me,” Felix says, each word lacerated and laced with poisoned memory. “He died and I killed him.”

...

The fourth time Felix knows something is different, he’s eighteen years old. Jisung is his best friend and his first love and they’ve been happy, happy, happy together for three whole years. Soon, they’ll graduate high school and they’ll start university and they’ll get degrees and jobs and an apartment together. They’ll learn how to cook and learn how to make cocktails and they’ll invite all their friends over to taste test. They’ll get promotions and raises and when the time is right, they’ll get married, too.

They have so many plans for the future, but the future has to wait its turn. For now, their plans for tonight are more important. Three whole years–and to celebrate, Felix has been preparing for ages.

I’m not feeling well, he told Jisung. A lie, of course. We’ll have to postpone our anniversary, he told Jisung. Said while repressing giggles, of course. All so Jisung won’t suspect a thing, of course. That will make the surprise bigger and more exciting of course.

Felix takes a whole hour to shower, get dressed, do his hair. He rearranges his bouquet of flowers for the eleventh time and he takes a long, deep breath. He walks to Jisung’s house and thanks the wind for staying calm. He chastises his heart for not following suit when he knocks on the door, when Jisung’s mom answers, when she says Jisung isn’t home.

Felix calls Jisung. No answer. Felix texts Jisung. No answer. Felix wanders around the neighborhood–up and down the roads, through the park, all the way back to his own home. Nowhere to be found.

He thinks oh, God, something must’ve happened! He’s run away, he’s breaking up with me, he’s been kidnapped! But then he thinks, oh, God, he’s planning something for me, too.

And he is.

Felix finds him at their beach, quaint and secluded. He moves through the brush quietly, watching Jisung with his back turned as he sets something up near the cliff. He sneaks closer, closer, a grin spreading across his face as he tip-toes.

Jisung is so focused on arranging a blanket, a picnic basket, a bottle of cold medicine, a bottle of sparkling apple juice that he doesn’t hear Felix at all. He doesn’t feel Felix’s looming presence as he lurks behind him, as he reaches out, completely unaware until Felix squeezes Jisung’s sides while shouting, “Got you!”

Jisung screams. He springs up in surprise, whirling around to face his attacker. His feet catch on each other, his legs tangle, his arms pinwheel as he tries and fails to catch his balance.

In the movies, things like this happen in slow motion. You think: there’s still time to stop this, to reach out, to grab Jisung’s arm or his shirt or his leg, to catch him before he falls, while he falls, after he’s halfway gone. There’s still time to save him.

But this isn’t the movies and there isn’t time. One second Jisung is there, the next he’s disappeared into the air.

Felix trips on the picnic blanket as he scrambles forward. He lands hard on his stomach, the breath pushing out of his lungs so fast, it blurs his vision. He crawls to the edge of the cliff, staring down into the water where he knows Jisung will be floating, clinging to a rock, waiting for Felix to come rescue him. But Jisung can’t swim and the rocks are barren except for a splash of red already being washed away by waves.

Fear propels Felix into reckless motion. He topples over the edge and into the ocean, gasping with the sting of impact. Water rushes into his mouth, his throat, his lungs, but he kicks and kicks until he can resurface and spit it back out.

“Jisung!” he screams.

Fear wards off his cold and his heavy limbs and his weak swimming. He dives beneath the surface again. Salt burns his eyes as he opens them underwater, but he persists in his search.

He surges down and down until he’s forced up and up again. Down again, up again, down again, up again, half the ocean sitting heavy in his belly.

“Jisung!” he screams.

Fear pulls Felix out of the water against his will. Fear wraps him in a blanket and holds him tight. Fear asks him a question and a question and a question and when Felix looks, he sees that it’s not fear, but rather Hyunjin instead, materializing as if some holy specter in Felix’s time of need.

Fear crawls down Felix’s throat and settles in the spaces where bone meets bone. Fear takes his tongue and tells the truth of what happened. Fear points to the water and says he’s still in there! He still needs me! Fear says yes, he is but no, he doesn’t. Fear says the police are on their way. Fear says they brought divers. Fear says they found him. Fear says I’m sorry for your loss.

Fear clings to Felix so tight it hurts–or, wait, maybe that’s Hyunjin, too. Fear drives Felix home and talks to his parents–or, wait, maybe that’s...Fear tries and tries and tries to reach out–or, wait…

Later, Felix learns that Jisung was determined to celebrate their anniversary no matter what. He asked Hyunjin for help–get Felix out of bed no matter how sick he is. Get Felix to the beach. Get Felix on that cliff. But Hyunjin couldn’t find Felix, so he came to find Jisung again, to say I’m sorry I failed you. Instead he found Felix, jumped in after Felix, swam him to shore. Instead he said I’m sorry I failed you for another reason entirely.

Later, Felix learns that he can’t look Hyunjin in the eye. All he can do is bring Jisung his flowers, plant them, hope they’ll grow. All he can do is hold his breath. His record is sixty-six seconds. That’s how long Jisung had, how long he struggled, how long he waited for Felix to come save him.

Fear is present in every smile and every blink and everything for the next year, the next year, the next year. Fear turns him still and solemn. Fear turns him cold and numb. Fear becomes constant. Fear replaces that piece of him that went missing beneath the waves.

...

Fear paints Chan’s face in sickly colors as he listens. “It’s not your fault, Lix,” he says.

“It is,” Felix says, clutching at his chest where beneath his heart beats so hard and so fast, he’s certain bones are about to break. “It’s my fault.”

“I’m so sorry–”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asks, his voice trilling toward shrill. He drops to his knees again, buries his fingers in the dirt again, tears falling freely from his cheeks. “This was his garden! This was him!”

“It was an accident,” Chan says, placing a hand on Felix’s back. “He wouldn’t want you to hurt like this.”

“He’s dead, Chan!” Felix screams, the force of his words carrying far across the open water. He turns his face up at Chan, angry and dirty and devastated. “We don’t know what he would’ve wanted! But he did want flowers and I–I–”

“Take a breath,” Chan says. He kneels beside Felix and inhales slowly, exhales slowly, gesturing for Felix to do the same. “Come on. Like this.”

“Chan–”

“Like this. You can do it.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. Like this. In, out. In, out. There you go. Again. In, out. Good job. Good job, Felix.”

“Chan,” Felix tries again, shaking in his effort to keep the rhythm, to keep breathing, to keep calm. “I want to go home.”

“Okay. I’ll take you.”

“We have to be well rested for our trip.”

“Well,” Chan says, helping Felix to his feet. “Yeah, but we can postpone that, you know. There’s no rush.”

“Did you quit your job?”

“I did.”

“Then we need to go,” Felix says, nodding to himself. “We need to go. We need to go. We–”

“Felix. Breathe.”

Felix breathes, but the sentiment echoes long and loud. He needs to go. There is no garden and there are no flowers and there is no Jisung and it’s all Felix’s fault and it always, always has been. Chan doesn't understand, can’t understand, and Felix is glad for it. This pain of fear is not something he wishes on others. It’s something he holds inside the way he holds his breath. It’s something he can’t release with every in, out, in, out.

He needs to go. He needs to go. He needs to go.

Chan walks him home. Chan hugs him long and gentle. Chan rocks him back and forth. Chan says I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Felix says yeah. Felix says thank you for everything. Chan says we’ll have fun. Felix says yeah. Felix says thank you for everything.

When night falls, Felix can’t sleep and he doesn’t try. Instead, he packs a bag and a bag and a bag. He throws them into the back of the van and he takes their shared set of keys and he starts the engine. He drives and he drives well because they’ve been practicing. He drives and he doesn’t stop at Chan’s house to pick him up. He drives and he drives and when he thinks of Jisung, he doesn’t turn back. He drives and he drives and when his phone rings, he doesn’t answer it. He drives and he drives and when he sees Jisung’s favorite flowers on the side of the road, he doesn’t stop and he doesn’t pick them. He just drives and he drives and he drives.