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It was rather warm that day, a sign of spring was near, when Suho asked, “He’s not coming?”
They were sitting at the hospital backyard, Suho on the wheelchair. He asked calmly, just like how he always was when it came to Sieun. Your tenderness is a little butterfly, bringing storm in every flap of its thin wings.
Words curled on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t have the heart to let them spill over. The answer to Suho’s question, even though he knew Suho could read him, he just couldn’t say it out loud.
“I’ve heard his name from your friends.” Suho was like a morning light. He was gentle. He was warm. Even in their situation—even when I hurt you. “Geum Seongje.”
Geum Seongje.
The reason why he stopped waiting. The reason why he didn’t give their relationship a chance before it could even start. The reason why they could only be almost, but never be them.
The reason why I fell out of love with you.
“I’ve read all your texts. You never mentioned him.”
Because he couldn’t. Because Suho thought he would wait for him. Because Suho thought they wouldn’t change. Because Suho had faith in his feelings.
Because you love me.
“You should’ve told me, Sieun… so I know you’re okay.”
His eyes glistened with tears. A drop trickled down, then another, then another, then another.
“I couldn’t.” Guilt was a dark lump suffocating him. Suho’s stare felt like a warm hug he didn’t deserve, hand reaching out to take his, gently, he didn’t deserve it. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I shouldn’t.” Teardrops fell into their entwined fingers, burning his skin with guilt. “I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have found comfort in someone else. I should’ve waited. I shouldn’t have loved him. I should’ve loved you.”
His fingers tightened around Suho’s hand, holding it as though Suho would leave him again if he let go. His chest felt heavy, it was hard to breathe, but he knew he deserved it—I deserve to feel like this, to have this lump of guilt choking me, this feeling of remorse skinning me alive because I’ve betrayed you, betrayed us.
But, Suho was like a morning light. He was gentle. He was warm. His touch was gentle. His hug was warm. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve made you wait too long, yeah? I’m sorry, Sieun.”
Suho was his home. The one he wanted to go back to. The one he wanted to be with. Suho was the one who made life bearable. The one who kept him from falling apart. The one who made him feel complete.
It only pained him when everything had shifted. That Suho was no longer the one he would come to at the end of the day. That Suho was no longer the one his heart longed for. That Suho’s arms didn’t offer him comfort like they used to. The hug was warm but empty.
It only pains me when you’re still mine but I’m no longer yours.
His warm Suho. His gentle Suho. His kind Suho. When the man palmed his cheeks, bringing his gaze to meet his, he was still the Suho he used to love—still the Suho who loved him.
“You’re crying.” Small eyes curved into two crescents as he smiled. “Hey, Sieun. It’s weird to see you cry.”
He also cried when they told him Suho had fallen into a comatose state with just a little hope to wake up and live a normal life. He also cried when Seongje made him break his promise not to fight anymore for Suho’s sake. He thought he would also cry when Suho was awake, a different cry full of joy and grateful feelings.
He indeed cried, a different cry—a celebration for Suho’s heartbreak.
Suho wiped the small streams on Sieun’s cheeks. He took his hand once again, kissing his fingers one by one, lips dry and trembling.
But, Suho was still smiling.
Even when his voice quivered as he said, “You should bring him here next time. I want to meet the one who stole you from me.”
But, Suho was still smiling.
Even when tears start pouring down your cheeks. Even when you start sobbing. Even when you know your heart is beating achingly lonely.
“Fuck,” he whispered between small chuckles, “it’s even more painful than when they knocked the tar out of me.”
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t only for the change of heart; it was for the time he failed to protect Suho, it was for letting their friendship with Beomseok get ruined, it was for all promises he had broken. It was the same I’m sorrys he whispered during the time when Suho lay still in bed like a living corpse. It was for everything, every mistake, every pain he caused for Suho. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m—”
“Shush. Apology accepted.” Suho patted his head before leaning back on the wheelchair. His cheeks were still damp from crying, but he looked relaxed, as though he didn’t just get his heart broken, as though nothing happened between them. “Is he good?” he then asked lightly. “This Geum Seongje guy.”
“He’s the worst.” He brushed off the last strain of his tears, snorting softly at the thought of Seongje. “Worst of the worst. You’ll hate him.”
“But you like him.”
He did. Just when he thought he couldn’t fall for anyone but Suho. Just when he thought he would wait forever for Suho. Just when he thought there would be no other than Suho. Maybe Seongje was there in the right place, at the right time. Maybe Seongje was there when he was at the bottom pit, offering him a helping hand.
Or, maybe Seongje was simply the right person. He just didn’t know. Seongje let him know.
Geum Seongje, the peculiar light blinking warmly at the end of the cold tunnel.
Roses bloomed on his face, kissing both his cheeks red. “He sees through me,” he mumbled, “maybe better than anyone.”
“You really do like him.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re happy with him.”
It wasn’t a question. Suho made sure he was happy with Seongje. Suho knew he was. He gave a faint nod along with a small “Surprisingly so.”
“Promise me you’ll let us meet.”
It was rather warm that day, when Sieun made the promise.
It was warmer when he fulfilled his promise. Suho had been waiting; his smile was beaming as warm as the sun when their eyes met. Sieun halted his step momentarily, keeping quite the distance. He needed a second or two, letting whatever he was feeling sink in deeper.
“You okay?” Beside him was Seongje, watching him carefully. “Need a moment?”
Seongje was like a spring breeze. His touch, even just the slightest, was like a gentle blow of the wind. It was only the tips of his fingers stroking the back of Sieun’s hand, but it was enough to calm the thoughts storming inside his head.
It was Sieun who initiated to hold his hand. Firmly. Not letting go. “I’m okay,” he answered. You’re here. He didn’t have to say it out loud. Seongje knew. He was there.
His heart thumped rapidly as they walked closer. Suho waved his hand, greeting the two of them. He couldn’t see the tint of sadness he witnessed the other day; those small eyes were as bright as they always were.
“Hi.” Suho’s lips grew into a grin. “Whoa. So this is the guy.”
Sieun shifted awkwardly, but Seongje, being Seongje, had a gesture as though he had known Suho forever—calm, confident. Seongje let go of Sieun’s hand, making him feel a little lonely for he had missed the way those fingers held his, only to crouch down in front of Suho, aligning their gazes.
“Someone said you wanted to meet me,” said Seongje. He made a small glance at Sieun, but Sieun could see it—how those sharp, merciless eyes softened, how warmth reflected on their dark surfaces.
“Ah.” It was so warm that Sieun knew even Suho could see it, too. The gentleness. The love. “Now I know why Sieun chose you.”
It was warmer when Sieun finally brought Seongje to meet Suho.
It was warmer when Sieun knew everything had fallen into place.
Them.
Us.