Archive of Our Own

Donghyun knew for a fact that he had always wanted Dongmin to stay. He knew that he cannot bear the idea of him moving away, of staying away. He knew that he wanted Dongmin to hold on as tightly and desperately as he did. 

Yet, deep down, Donghyun knew that life doesn’t always work that way.

And still, Donghyun persevered.

He waited. He stayed. He hoped.

Dongmin had never not known Donghyun. They were each other’s person growing up. He cannot remember the day when he first met Donghyun, but he will always remember him as if he was himself.

At the age of seven, he remembers sitting on the sidewalk, his bike on the ground and his knee bleeding. He didn’t cry no matter how much it hurt. Donghyun was the one to do that for him. That night, Donghyun relented to stay by his side. Dongmin remembers waking up to Donghyun’s arm curled around his own.

It was love, Dongmin was sure. He had always called Donghyun his best friend because he was his.

However, time did not spare them from growing and wanting. While Dongmin knows that Donghyun’s heart housed him first, it was only a matter of time before it makes more room for more hearts to take in.

By fifteen, Dongmin watched as Donghyun fell in love with one Lee Sanghyeok.

It hurt, knowing that he cannot call Donghyun just his anymore, but he also knew that there is no point in loving someone and wanting to be the only one who loves them. With Donghyun, Dongmin learned to wish that his love is the smallest love Donghyun will ever receive.

He watched as Donghyun talked about first kisses, watched as Sanghyeok’s smile lit up Donghyun’s. They were each other’s, and Dongmin was too selfless to say that he was jealous. He could be selfish, sure, but upon seeing Sanghyeok’s small hand fit perfectly in Donghyun’s, Dongmin knew that this is what Donghyun deserved.

To be seen and loved, to find more people that fit perfectly against him.

And so, just as any story goes, time did not spare them from growing apart.

Dongmin convinced himself that it was okay. He told himself that it was fine. He forced himself to believe that life will go on.

Because it does. He knows it does. He was sure of it.

It was just that he cannot imagine life going on without Donghyun.

Years pass by. Donghyun has Sanghyeok, Dongmin has himself.

They drifted from each other, heartbreakingly slow. It was not a breaking off but a fading away. They stretched away from each other until they were both running thin, running out of something to hold on to. Donghyun can still remember the night when he first realized this.

They were both in their last year of high school. Dongmin still lived next door, but Donghyun felt as if the boy was up in another planet, another world of his own. One that did not have a room for Donghyun.

It was nighttime. The late January breeze was unforgivingly cold, but there was a warmth that surrounded Donghyun. As he stepped further outside his family house, he saw a familiar figure sitting on the sidewalk, beside the broken streetlight and right under the cherry blossoms .

Donghyun already knew who it was even in the dark.

Walking towards him, Donghyun took notice of the curve of Dongmin’s spine. It seemed as if the boy was carrying the world on his back again. He noticed the cherry blossoms littered around Dongmin’s feet. The plant has been there ever since they were born and they both believed that it would remain long after they were gone.

As Donghyun inhaled the floral scent in the air, he cleared his throat and took a seat. Dongmin made no move nor sound of acknowledgment, as if he already expected Donghyun to come. Then, Donghyun heard a familiar sound of a lighter. Turning his head, he saw Dongmin holding a cigarette in between his lips. Their shoulders were touching, and their faces were only a couple of centimeters apart.

“I thought you quit.” Donghyun asked as he watched the boy light the cigarette, one hand cupping the flame like a secret. “You told Ma you stopped.”

“Well, I’m only giving them what they want.” Dongmin replied as he exhaled, voice nonchalant. The smoke lingered in the air between them, curling around nothing until it faded into the night.

For a moment, Donghyun stayed quiet as he watched his best friend tilt his head up to the flowers above them, eyes shut and lips curled to a smile. The cold was nothing to the way Donghyun’s heart ached at the thought of their proximity. He fought the urge to lean in, to put his head on Dongmin’s shoulder just like how he used to do and give into the voice telling him to do so for such a long time. He never used to do that before: hesitate. The thought of it burned the back of his neck along with how far away the other boy beside him feels.

He felt his entire body suddenly go numb but paid no attention to it—simply because all of it remained on the boy next to him.

“So, this is another secret of ours.”

Dongmin opened his eyes, tilted his head to look at Donghyun, and smiled knowingly. 

That’s another thing Donghyun loved about them; they just knew. Dongmin always knew what to say, and Donghyun always knew what to say back. They never ‘didn’t know.’

Throughout his entire life, Donghyun could recognize Dongmin like the back of his hand. Come hell or high water, he used to always know.

Now, however, Donghyun couldn’t help but feel as if Dongmin is slipping through his fingers. He didn’t know what he could do, what he should do. He didn’t know if he should do something to make it right. If there was anything to make right at all.

Dongmin had always been a constant in Donghyun’s life. Sure, Donghyun learned to love other people just as much as he loved Dongmin, but he knew that it was because of that love that gave him the courage to do so.

He was his soulmate, his best friend, the first person outside his family to had ever known and loved him—and it scared Donghyun the way life is happening to them.

Feeling the warm and wet sand in his hands, Donghyun looked up to see Dongmin playing in the water again. They had been together since early afternoon. The last time Donghyun looked at his phone, it was nearing four in the afternoon. The sun was peeking in and out behind the clouds, creating an immaculate glow of soft orange in the area. As he continued to watch his best friend, he became aware of an aching mass forming right inside his rib cage.

“Donghyun-ah!” He heard Dongmin shout from afar, arms waving playfully in the air. “Come here before the water gets cold!”

Deep down, Donghyun told himself that the water might probably be already cold; he knew, however, that it was still warmer at that moment than later. 

Deep down, looking at his best friend while walking towards the open sea, he knew that the water would eventually get colder, so now was the perfect time to swim.

Deep down, he wanted to. It was in moments like this where he felt most young. In the time he spent with his best friend, he knew that nothing could go wrong.

But for some reason, as he reached the edge of the water, he held himself back. The sun was setting moving the once bright colors out of the sky as the stars began twinkling. The sea breeze was blowing slightly harder. The water kissing the soles of his feet already felt unbearably colder. No matter how badly he wanted to go in, he settled on just watching Dongmin from afar. 

This was it. Dongmin knew this was it. 

Their lives were different now. Too different. 

There was nothing left to say.

The spark that once was there was no longer.

His hands were shaking from the freezing water.

The cherry blossoms lingered in the air still.

His tongue tastes like old cigarettes that he tried to stop smoking a year ago.

Nobody could really point out where it began: the ending.

And yet here they both were: at the end of their beginning.

It had been a year or so since they last saw each other in person. It had been months since they last spoke on the phone. It had been forever since they were how they used to be.

“You’re smoking again?” Donghyun asked, though it wasn’t a question, as he watched Dongmin light up a stick of cigarette. The smell of nicotine mixed beautifully with the scent of cherry blossoms made him feel nostalgic and regretful. Somehow, the sense of deja vú didn’t make him smile—he was sad.

“Not as much as I used to.” Dongmin uttered. “Helps me sleep.”

Donghyun couldn’t help but notice how short his friend’s responses were. It left an odd hollow feeling inside of him, and he wondered if the boy a couple of feet beside him could feel it, too. The distance between them was also noticeable, and Donghyun knew that it was inevitable.

“You’re having trouble sleeping?” 

The night breeze was cold. Ridiculously and uncomfortably. It was almost as if they weren’t welcome where they were anymore.

Dongmin, eyes avoidant and far, shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s probably this place.”

Donghyun’s heart dropped. He looked at Dongmin closer and realized that he could no longer recognize him. He no longer knew him.

“Ma said they’re moving away.” Dongmin whispered like a secret. Donghyun could feel his lungs collapsing.

“Away how?”

“Wanted to move nearer my place, so probably in Seoul.” Dongmin took a drag of his cigarette, eyes set on the way the lit end came alive before fading again.

The moon above glared down at them, a witness of their downfall. Except Donghyun knew that it was no downfall. It was just how life happens. People come, people go. Only the ghosts of them remained, memories that linger in corners of dark rooms, in the cigarette butts on the pavement, in the scent of cherry blossoms at night.

Donghyun had seen it coming, and he tried so hard to deny it. Tried to look away from the scene of the crime. Tried to ignore the smell of blood, the gunpowder in the air, the rotting corpse.

He tried believing that there was a despite in their distance, but even the prayers of believers get denied.

“Oh.”

That was all Donghyun could say as he watched Dongmin stub out his cigarette. For a moment, he found himself hating this stupid town. This stupid place. This stupid house. He found himself regretting living here and meeting Dongmin—but he knew that he was lying to himself.

After all, Donghyun learned to love other people because he loved Dongmin.

And apparently, love could not be enough to make someone stay.

“Are you okay?” Dongmin asked, his voice low.

Donghyun could convince himself that the boy was just as sad as he was, but he could never be sure. It had been years since he had known Dongmin. At this point, he was speaking to a stranger.

“Yeah.” Donghyun was convincing himself. “I’m fine.”

“I can still come by.” Dongmin lied through his teeth, and Donghyun saw right through it. Still, he let himself have this. One last time, he let himself believe in a tomorrow with Dongmin.

“And you’d what, stay over at our place?”

“I’m sure your sister would love that.” Donghyun forgot to tell Dongmin that his sister didn’t live there anymore, but what was the point in telling now?

“Right, because she loved you.”

“Well, you love me.” Dongmin stated blankly, and Donghyun’s world came crashing down. He never knew Dongmin could be this heartless, shameful and mean at best. It was like taking a shot through the skull, and taking another through the heart. Just in case.

Suddenly feeling the burden of all his emotions, Donghyun could only respond. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Dongmin let out a light laugh. Donghyun watched him still avoid his eyes. That was all that it took for him to know that there was no going back anymore.