Chapter Text
Piles of clothes were scattered on the floor of the bedroom and in the midst of it, Hanjin sat, tossing a bright blue sweater into the pile. Then, he spotted it. A weary cardboard box was tucked deep in the corners of his closet, its flaps saggy and dust and spiderwebs covering the lid. The earthy smell of worn out paper and faintly of marker hit him before he could make out what was resting in the box. Inside were crumpled coupons, a piece of broken ceramic and music sheets tied with a weary rubberband. Under a jar of colorful paper stars, sat two polaroid photos. Hanjin gently picked it up as if he was scared of the kind of memories it’d bring.
The first picture was of a familiar boy sitting in front of a grand piano, grinning at the camera. There was a note under the photo that read, “K.DH ♡ Taken by HJ”.
The second picture, though, was of two boys standing side by side in what seemed like a basketball court, wearing matching navy tracksuits and grinning cheerfully for the camera. Hanjin recognized him, who was on the left, and the other boy was one who made his chest tighten. The boy had his arm hooked onto Hanjin’ waist, smiling for the camera.
Kim Dohoon.
The name sounded somewhat familiar in Hanjin’s head, but also foreign at the same time. It felt like hearing a tune that you once obsessed over years ago again.
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They met in middle school, thrown in the same class and seated right next to each other. Hanjin was the quiet, steady type who always had his eyes locked onto pages and pages of books. Dohoon was the polar opposite—he was energetic, social and, not to mention, charming. When people saw them side by side, they’d immediately assume that they hated each other, but it was a different story. They were actually inseparable.
“Opposites attract!” Dohoon used to tell him with a wide grin plastered on his face.
Dohoon was the sun and Hanjin found himself unable to pry away from his orbit.
Soon, silly little 12 year old Hanjin fell in love with Dohoon, and although he never said it out loud, he just silently admired Dohoon, overthinking whether Dohoon liked him back or not which made his head a constant mess at such a young age (it affected his grades badly).
And the day Dohoon moved away to New York, Hanjin’s heart broke into pieces and he was reluctant whether they’d heal. Hanjin was there the day Dohoon left because ‘his mom said so’ (according to Dohoon). Hanjin stared up at the boy with glassy eyes, forcing a smile on his face, the usual chatters of the airport fading away as he glanced at Dohoon. “I’ll miss you,dear friend,” he whispered, fixing Dohoon’s scarf that was just lazily swung around his neck. “Dear friend”; those words flew out of his mouth like a knife. It ached his heart to say that.
“I’ll miss you too,” Dohoon echoed.
And just like that, Dohoon left, turning around one final time to smile back at Hanjin before walking through the departure gates along with his parents. For five years, Hanjin stayed without Dohoon and although he believed that he moved on, a part of his heart had boarded the plane.
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Hanjin was at a warm cafe, seated on one of the corner booths whilst he stared out the window, faintly humming a rhythm he picked up from the radio on the way that he couldn't quite fully remember how the next part went. The cup of caramel latte rested in front of him, a few sips taken out of it, the ceramic cup shiny under the chandeliers hanging above the cafe. Then, the bell above the cafe door rang. Normally, he wouldn’t look at who it was—he couldn’t care less, as he had always been someone who wouldn’t get into people’s businesses. But this time, something inside his gut told him to look and when he did, he couldn’t regret it more.
There he was, entering the cafe with hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his pants and a casual ease that seemed to shift all the attention to him.
Kim Dohoon.
Hanjin immediately stiffened, pulse fastening underneath his wrists. Dohoon smiled at the cashier and oh, how much it ached Hanjin’s heart. For 5 years, he had hated that smile. It was always polite and cheerful, directed at everyone but best when directed right at Hanjin. Wait. Hanjin mentally slapped himself out of…whatever that was. He wasn’t supposed to have those thoughts. Dohoon was just a childhood memory, nothing else, or at least that was what he told himself. He brushed off the late nights he spent crying, the ache in his heart that squeezed harder when somebody mentioned Dohoon, when he looked away from anything red, as it was Dohoon’s favorite color back then.
He grabbed his stuff and shoved it into his bag, scurrying out of the cafe door. Dohoon had just glanced at him, eyes widening at the familiar back figure. “Hanzhen?” he muttered under his breath.
But Hanjin didn’t know that. He just kept running, his shoes hitting hard against the asphalt, until he reached a dirty alleyway with an unbearable stench from the trashbags, but his mind was somewhere else, lingering at the sudden sight of Dohoon’s nostalgic face.
He returned home, flopping onto the soft mattress of his bed just after taking his socks off and tossing them in the laundry basket. “What the fuck was he doing here after 5 fucking years?” he mumbled to himself, staring at the ceiling as if it’d whisper him the answer. He sighed, letting his shoulders relax after keeping them tense ever since the unexpected encounter with Dohoon.
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Hanjin jogged past the lush green bushes filled with colorful flowers in the school garden, hurrying as he was late for his class. He swung open the classroom door with a thud, making all eyes land on him. He immediately went red. He hated this kind of attention. He lowered his head, trying to hide the embarrassment, and slid onto his seat—fourth row, by the window.
Then, the door swung open a second time and a familiar face emerged from outside, looking completely wrecked. “Oh no,” Hanjin gasped. Dohoon stood by the doorway, his cheeks bright red from embarrassment, panting heavily.
The teacher popped out from behind him, walking to the podium before clearing his throat, catching everyone’s attention. “Good morning, everyone. Today, a new student will be joining us,” he turned to Dohoon, “Please introduce yourself.”
Dohoon gulped down the nervousness creeping up his throat and dragged his feet to the front of the classroom. Hanjin’s fist tightened under the desk, heart pounding against his ribs as if it might explode right out. Dohoon is my new classmate..?
He stared in utter surprise as Dohoon cleared his throat. “Hello. My name is Kim Dohoon. I just came back from New York. Nice to meet you. Please take good care of me!” he bowed.
“Great, Dohoon. Now please go take a seat next to Hanjin,” the teacher gestured towards the seat right next to Hanjin. Hanjin froze, eyes locked onto Dohoon as the boy flopped down beside him, taking out his books like the diligent student he was. Hanjin choked on his saliva, thumbs fidgeting under the desk.
For the rest of the school day, he found himself unable to pry his gaze away from Dohoon. He would often find his gaze drifting from the teacher to Dohoon’s side profile, sculpted like a Greek statue.
After the school day, whilst everyone was going back home, Hanjin cornered Dohoon by the school garden. “What are you doing here all of a sudden?” he asked, hands braced onto his hips like a scolding mother.
Dohoon rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I transferred to this school, Hanjin-ssi. Why else?”
“You? To this school? Transferred?” he chuckled.
“Yes! What? Did you miss me while I was gone?”
Hanjin went stiff for half a second, mind blank at how true it was before he rolled his eyes. “Please. Why would I?”
Dohoon chuckled. “So you developed an attitude while I was gone, huh?” To that, Hanjin scoffed bitterly before strutting away, but for some reason, his heart ached, perhaps from when he loved Dohoon so much back when he was a stupid middle schooler. Ridiculous, he huffed, but his chest felt uneasy.
Back in the comfort of his own room, he laid on the bed, completely weary from doing nothing but staring at Dohoon’s face all day. Why did he come back anyways? Should've stayed in New York forever. He sat up straight, hands reaching for the two polaroid pictures that he discovered a few days ago. The grinning face of Dohoon stared right back at him, eyes twinkling. And all of a sudden, Hanjin felt his eyes get warmer by the moment. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath, desperately trying not to cry. But in the end, the tears fell freely down his cheek, dripping down his chin and onto his shirt.
“Fuck, I missed him.”
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The next day, Hanjin stood inside an empty classroom after school, the kind of hour where the sunset shone golden rays onto the earth, highlighting the school hallways with a vibrant orange. He was the only one in the art room after school, painting an unfinished work that he had been working on for the past few weeks. Suddenly, the classroom door slid open and Dohoon walked in, holding what seemed like pastries and two cups of coffee, with a nervous grin on his face.
The boy carefully approached him and when he saw the painting that Hanjin was working on of a dove, he gasped. “That’s so beautiful, Hanjin-ssi,” he smiled.
Hanjin muttered an awkward ‘thanks’ before packing his stuff, ready to leave. But as he neared the exit, Dohoon blocked the way. “W-wait. Can we please hang out? Just for a while. Please,” he pleaded, eyes sparkling like a needy puppy.
Hanjin rolled his eyes and reluctantly agreed. They sat face to face by the desk, the cream cheese buns that Dohoon bought between them. Hanjin took a sip of the coffee, not because he was thirsty (okay, maybe he was…a bit. Drawing all evening without any break dried his mouth and throat, so he was slightly relieved that Dohoon had brought him coffee), but because he needed to occupy his mouth amidst the awkward tension. “So,” Dohoon cleared his throat, “how have you been?”
“Fine.”
To that, Dohoon nodded and Hanjin could see his legs bouncing even more under the desk. He chugged the coffee cup down, letting the bitter taste flow down his throat. “Have this,” Dohoon slid a cream cheese bun across the table, waiting with expectant eyes.
Hanjin reached over and bit into the bun, the cream cheese filling bursting in his mouth. A satisfied hum echoed in his throat. “This is good,” he nodded at the bun, signalling Dohoon to eat along.
Dohoon chuckled. “Glad you enjoy it.” Suddenly, he reached his hand out, whispering, “Wait,” and with one swift motion, he brushed off the cream stuck onto Hanjin’s lip.
Hanjin’s mind went blank, pulse fastening and heart pounding inside his chest. Oh shit. The feeling of Dohoon’s thumb was warm against his bottom lip, the sensation ticklish but oddly enjoyable. “I-I’ll go to the toilet. I’ll be right back,” he stood up, quickly scurrying outside before Dohoon could even say anything else. He ran up to the toilet, leaning against the cool wall by the toilet entrance whilst the heard thuds of his heartbeat deafened him. “What the fuck was that?” he held his head in his hands, trying to organize his chaotic thoughts.
He hadn’t realized how long he had been staying there until he heard the distant sounds of rain pouring onto the school grounds. He cautiously walked back into the classroom to gather his stuff but when he slid open the door, Dohoon was nowhere to be found. Hanjin raised an eyebrow and spotted a note stuck to the desk they sat in. “You took too long, Hanjin-ssi. Take my umbrella to get back home. And me? Don’t worry. I’m pretty fast at running. From : Dohoon-ssi (Take care!),” the note read.
Hanjin absentmindedly grinned to himself, picking up the umbrella Dohoon had left and his bags. And so, just like Dohoon’s note told him to, he used the boy’s umbrella to return back home without any troubles (except for the lingering feeling of Dohoon’s thumb on his lips).