Chapter Text
They meet on a bridge.
—
"You said you'd never enter my house again."
"Believe me, I wish I didn't have to. Don't you have some gambling to do?"
"Get out. Get out now before I make you."
"Listen, I'm just grabbing things I forgot to bring with me, don't lose the few marbles you have left."
"Oh, me, a few marbles? Look at yourself! You're a mess, I can't even call you my son. What's stopping you from making like he did and ending it?"
He didn't respond.
He gathered what he came for into a duffel bag and nudged her out of the way, tuning out the string of curses that followed. He opened the front door and left the apartment (for the last time, he hopes), hurried down the building's stairwell, speed-walked through the parking lot and managed to catch the public bus just in time.
—
Seungcheol slid open the door of his apartment and closed it behind him. Without even taking his shoes off, he shuffled into the next room and fell back on his bed. He reached into the bag of items he retrieved from his mother's apartment and pulled out his 9th year school ID, a planner from who knows when, and a Polaroid of him holding his younger brother for the first time. He took a closer look at the baby face he took care of for so many years, teased for so many years, fought with for so many years. His thoughts were interrupted by the unwelcoming voice of his mother, how she had brought up his brother so lightly in an argument, as if she hadn't cared about her own son from the start, and it enraged him. It was too much. It was too much.
—
So he walked.
Seungcheol walked in the dark of night on the same route he always did when things got to be overwhelming. He reached his arms up past his shoulders and fumbled with the hood of his jacket, throwing it over his lowered head. Sliding his hands back into his pockets, he quickened his pace toward his destination: Ayang Railway Bridge.
Seungcheol knew it was best that he stay away from the bridge. He knew going there hindered his recovery, but he couldn't help it. He would calm down when he sat on the railing, sitting next to where his brother had. Looking at the same scenery as his brother had. He didn't cry thinking about it anymore; tears were replaced by the dullest, heaviest chest pain one could imagine a long time ago. Seungcheol had no any recollection of the funeral whatsoever, or if his mother even cried. He doubted it.
He reached the end of the bridge and stopped three meters from his regular spot.
Someone was sitting there.
What looked to be a young boy with his head down was seated right on the edge of the railing, a little too far off for comfort. He wasn't moving even a little bit; the boy was almost statue-like. Seungcheol had never seen him before—he'd never seen anyone rest on the bridge before. He pushed his thoughts of how similar he looked to someone he knew to the back of his mind.
He wanted to use his voice but didn't know what to say. If he stays silent, will the boy jump? If he speaks, will the boy be taken aback and possibly fall far, far into the water below?
He took the risk.
"What are you doing?"
The boy jerked and turned his head around so fast that Seungcheol honestly thought his neck might snap.
"I—nothing," he hesitantly responded. His eyes were puffy, his gaze similar to that of a deer caught in headlights.
"You know, you're, I think you're too close to the edge?" The boy seemed to open his mouth to reply but closed it, biting down on his lip.
Seungcheol continued. "...I've never seen you around here before. I usually sit there, sometimes." He cursed himself in his head. He didn't own this spot, why did he sound so entitled to it?
"Oh... is that so? I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't know." He pressed his palms against the steel and shifted away from the edge.
Seungcheol felt small relief at the sight of him no longer one slip from tragedy and simply stood there, cautiously watching the boy move his leg over the railing.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, you're fine," Seungcheol assured him. "...Are you fine?"
The boy brought his other leg over and stood a little ways from him. He nodded, patting dust off the back of his jeans. Seungcheol exhaled and slightly relaxed his shoulders.
"Are you sure? I mean... you were almost off the edge."
"I'm fine," he said under his breath, head still lowered. The atmosphere tightened again. "I'm sorry for bothering you, I'll be on my way—"
"I told you, there's no reason to be sorry."
The boy slightly froze mid-bow and slowly rose straight again, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt. Seungcheol took a step forward and leaned an arm on the railing. He felt bad.
He quietly cleared his throat and tried to make the situation not feel as if he was scolding him.
"...How old are you, if I may ask? You look a bit too young to be out here at this hour." Attempt failed. Horribly. Drastically.
"17." "17?" He nodded. "How long have you been here?" He shrugged. Seungcheol was about to throw another question at the kid when he spoke up.
"Why do you keep asking me all this? It's late, I—" his voice wavering, he made eye contact and ducked his head once more. "I'll be going now—"
"Wait." He looked up.
"Let me walk you home."
"...You didn't even ask for my name."
"You cut me off before I could," Seungcheol replied. He held back a small grin, unable to read the mood. The only sounds that filled the current silence were the lake's waves underneath softly crashing against the rocks and the vehicles that drove by, paying the two no mind. The boy kicked a pebble or two before speaking.
"Chan." "Hmm?" "It's Chan." "Ah." "...What about you?" "What about me?" "..." "Oh! Oh... Call me Seungcheol."
Seungcheol finally stepped away from where he had stood for the past three minutes, and stuck his hand out for the other to take.
"Let me walk you home, Chan?"
Chan stared at the offered hand for what felt like ages, and slowly but surely took it. Seungcheol shuffled forward next to him, acknowledged their surprisingly small height difference and adjusted their linked hands. They walked like this off the bridge, past a number of dimly lit streets and convenience stores, feeling the gust of wind each time a car sped by. Seungcheol asked himself why he had offered to walk a random stranger home on a whim, why said stranger had been there on the edge of the railing that night, why why why. Why had the boy's head been down this whole time?
"You know, looking down like that all the time will ruin your posture."
"...Where else would I look?"
"Anywhere else?" Seungcheol couldn't help but let out a small bout of laughter. "See, there's a cat!" He pointed out a cat without a tail trotting across the street. Chan kept quiet.
"...There's another, cat." He pointed out another small feline, not as eagerly.
Chan slipped his hand out of Seungcheol's, and stopped walking. Seungcheol turned around and felt his previously warm hand grow cold.
"Why did you offer to take me home?" Chan looked him straight in the eyes this time. He didn't think anyone could look so vulnerable.
"...You're young, it's not all that safe to walk alone this late."
"I'm not a child. I'm 17."
Seungcheol stumbled on his words for a second, but didn't know what else to say. He couldn't fully explain himself; he wasn't sure why he offered either, why he had felt a sense of responsibility for a stranger. So he turned the focus off of him.
"Why did you agree?"
The silence was deafening.
Chan lowered his head once again, and Seungcheol took note of how his body tensed.
"Thank you for walking me." The younger mumbled, barely audible.
He turned and started walking in the direction they had just come from. Seungcheol didn't understand any part of what was going on, but he had a gut feeling telling him he probably shouldn't let the other out of his sight. He asked him why he was walking that way and he thought he saw him walk faster; he called his name and Chan had definitely picked up the pace. Seungcheol took a number of strides to catch up and reached out for Chan's arm before the other could break into a full-on sprint.
"Why are you heading back where we just—"
Chan was crying.
Seungcheol saw his brother in him.
Watching closely for any signs of opposition, he slowly brought Chan into his chest and gently reached around him and placed his arms on his back. The younger stayed quiet before breaking into small, heartbreaking sobs against Seungcheol's shoulder. He'd only met this boy on a bridge fifteen minutes or so ago, but now they were stood underneath a street light, Seungcheol rubbing the other's back and letting him dampen his jacket. It didn't make sense; nothing about this day made sense. He felt hands tighten on his chest, and he wished he knew what Chan was thinking, why he was crying, what came after this. When he heard his sobs die down, Seungcheol took a step back, brought his hands to Chan's face and wiped his tears. He whispered basic affirmations, telling him he was okay and not to cry any more.
"You know... I may not know who you are or where you're from," he paused to wipe another tear, "but considering you took a stranger's hand and let him walk with you this far in the middle of the night, I know you need some better judgement," he laughed under his breath.
For the first time that night, Seungcheol saw Chan smile. He felt something.
Chan hummed in agreement, nodded and brought his hands to his face to wipe his nose with his sleeve. "It's not the smartest thing I've ever..." His voice trailed off as his eyes widened at Seungcheol's shoulder. "Oh, your jacket—"
"Hey, it's fine. You don't need to apologize for anything, you were just crying!" Seungcheol patted Chan's arm and saw him grow embarrassed under the yellow fluorescent light. He held back the urge to hug him again.
—
They said their goodbyes ("Are you really going home?" "You're not going to go back to the bridge, are you?" "Are you sure?") and Seungcheol watched as Chan walked up the slightly inclined street until he faded into the shadows and could no longer be seen. He lingered there on the street for a few moments, accompanied by the chirps of crickets in the nearby shrubs. He reached into his jeans' pocket and pulled out his phone. 2:28 AM.
Seungcheol hoped Chan got home safely.