funeral suits; soonhoon
thereâs a distance between them and their hearts that canât be bridged, and it hurts. it hurts so bad.
lee jihoon doesnât really remember what day of the week it is anymore. the way we count time is a social construct anyway, with nothing more than day and night being set in stone. the days blur into one another, body after body after body to handle.
yet, each corpse he sees still isnât him, and with each passing day, jihoonâs starting to lose a bit more hope. the only reason why heâs helping junhui and wonwoo with managing the bodies is so that the moment that soonyoungâs corpse is delivered, heâll see it.
by now, seeing a corpse is better than no news at all.
the war started not too long ago. maybe it has been half a year, maybe itâs been 3 months. jihoon doesnât really remember, but the duration doesnât change the fact that thereâs been a war outbreak, citizens against citizens. how could someone be so cruel, to the extent that youâd split a country in half, the border separating families, friends, lovers; to the extent that youâd kill anyone indiscriminately, when theyâre from your own country, when theyâre people who speak the same language as you, when theyâre just people . theyâre people, and isnât that reason enough to not hurt others?
everyoneâs a victim in this situation. the countryâs now on lockdown, so no one can escape. thereâs been so many killed that the morgues have run out of room to house the bodies. now, they just chuck all the bodies in a truck and deliver it to pledis high, leaving any volunteers to help clean them up and set everything up for identification.
itâs how he met junhui and wonwoo. it used to be just the two of them, spending most of the morning hauling and cleaning bodies, and the rest of the day laying them out and tagging them. jihoon would visit pledis every single day. again, and again, and again, praying that soonyoung would show up. he never did, but junhui took pity on him and asked if heâd want to help.
it takes his mind off of things, at least. if he has to worry about so many other people, he canât think of soonyoung as much. if his hands are always busy, they wonât miss the feeling of holding soonyoung. yet, his heart still aches by the end of the day, and all junhui and wonwoo can do is comfort him.
his heart used to sing; he remembers songs that were once theirs. he remembers listening to love songs and thinking of soonyoung because of each and every one of them. he remembers soft jazz playing in the background of their first kiss, remembers watching soonyoung dancing to house, and he tries so hard to carve the memories into his mind in case he forgets. now, his heart sings a song of its own: Iâll wait here, come back to me. come back, come back, come back home.
the feeling of a gun in his hands is so foreign. if jihoon was here, heâd never believe that kwon soonyoung would be tied down by accident, somehow becoming a medic even though all he has is basic first aid training and a little bit of knowledge from medical school. apparently, to the soldiers, watching him bandage himself up properly was enough of a reason to ask if he was willing to be a stand-in medic for them since they lacked manpower.
this whole situation is dumb. he should be home eating dinner with his parents and jihoon, not out here trying to patch up bleeding bodies of soldiers. he shouldnât need to carry around a gun for self defense. he shouldnât need to literally assist in operations to remove bullets from bodies. heâs only seventeen.
heâs only seventeen, and the cruel reality of war is hitting him across the face. everyone there feels sorry for him, actually. everyone drafted to fight is older than him, and they all know he shouldnât be here. everyone remembers a time when they were young and free, when they only had to worry about their exams and getting into a good university. itâs a huge burden placed onto his shoulders, but soonyoung will carry it for as long as he has to.
one of the men gave him a notebook as a thank you for saving his life. soonyoung keeps writing letters in it, letters to jihoon that he knows will never be sent to him. but hopefully, heâll be able to pass it to jihoon after the war ends. hopefully, heâll be able to meet him again and kiss him, crying about how much he missed him. in his dreams, he gets to sweep jihoon off his feet fairytale style, they get to have another date, they get married and live a full life together. and hopefully, hopefully they can die together, in each otherâs arms, or at least die happy.
in his seventeen-year-old mind, heâs only seventeen. he should be allowed to harbor a little bit of hope.
âhoon, arenât you gonna go home today? youâve been here for the whole week already. sleeping in the classroom canât possibly be that comfortable, right?â junhui jokes as if heâs doing any better. jihoon isnât easy to lie to, though. junâs eyebags have been getting worse and worse, and he looks pale as a sheet now. he wouldnât be surprised if the boy hasnât eaten the whole day, honestly.
jihoon remembers junhui from dance classes back in middle school. how could he forget? as much as he liked to show off whenever someone asked him to, he also would help everyone learn. heâd take as long as needed to teach a single move, and jihoon respects him for it. he wishes they didnât have to meet again under such circumstances.
when they met again for the first time in years, he was still all sunshine and rainbows, smiling softly and trying to comfort him. he knows, he knows how inseparable soonyoung and jihoon used to be. he knows how hard it is on jihoon to not be able to find him at all, and heâs trying his best. itâs not the same kind of comfort as what wonwoo provides, though.
as much as junhui knows it hurts, he doesnât understand. he has his whole family safely waiting for him in china, but wonwoo had to identify mingyuâs body, had to see all the bullet wounds and his mutilated body festering in front of his face. as much as wonwoo doesnât want jihoon to ever see his best friendâs corpse, the rationale is still rather reasonable: itâs better to bury him than let him be buried by militants and never get to see him again.
theyâre all trying their best here, all trying to remain optimistic in a bleak world with no future. but thereâs nothing left for them, not until the war ends. food will start to run low, civilians will start harming one another to get what they need to survive. soon, the power plants will stop working, and if things get too dire, they might as well be living in a post-apocalyptic world. yet, even with everything else, all jihoon can think about is how much easier it would be to tough everything out with soonyoung by his side.
back then, things were much simpler. it was sharing sodas and sticky kisses with soonyoung, holding hands and watching fireworks, studying together and sneaking glances at each other. back then, he took everything for granted, thought a lifetime with soonyoung was a given, and now he regrets it. now, heâd do anything to hear soonyoung nag at him again for smoking, to have soonyoung trying to kiss him while heâs doing work.
isnât he pathetic? jihoon canât stop listening to all of soonyoungâs voicemails, begging junhui and wonwoo to let him use the cable to charge his phone just so that he can replay them over and over again. an illusion of soonyoung being alive is better than nothing, forcing himself to keep believing that soonyoungâs out there, alive and trying his best to come back to his side.
and when soonyoung comes back, jihoon expects him to return weary, with deep eyebags and a bright smile. he wouldnât be surprised if he loses his chubby cheeks, or if he comes back wounded. so long as soonyoung returns, anythingâs fine with jihoon. so long as soonyoungâs back in his arms, there to comfort him and promise to never leave his side again, jihoon knows that theyâll be fine.
when soonyoung dreams, he dreams about jihoon. jihoonâs laughter rings in his ears and there he is, smiling right in front of him. when he reaches out to cup his face, he can feel jihoonâs skin under his hands, jihoonâs warmth under his skin. the difference is, when soonyoung wakes up, jihoon isnât there. he wakes up in tentage, taking deep breaths and trying to ready himself for the new day. a new day brings new casualties. new casualties mean new wounds to patch, and new irreparable wounds mean more deaths.
all he is is a teenager. he canât pull off miracles, canât save people like the experienced medics do- all heâs good for is wasting resources. he knows that they would replace him with someone with any sort of experience and skills if they could, but until then, heâll just have to prove his worth.
heâs learned a lot on the field from just watching the experienced medics. although a lot of them praise him for being able to learn so quickly, none of them really talk to him outside of that other than medic hong. he willingly listens to everything soonyoung says, from his childhood to jihoon to how he actually wanted to be a nurse. heâs solace in a nightmare, an angel from the heavens when the thing soonyoung needs the most is company and reassurance.
medic hong himself speaks fondly of his past too. he speaks of sunsets in los angeles, talks about how he grew up there ever since he was young, but came to korea on impulse and stayed ever since. even though heâs only a year older than soonyoung, heâs still so much more experienced. he talks about his rotations in hospitals and his wildest experiences in the emergency room, as if it was an adventure. and yet, he always ends with the sweetest smile, with a reminder that soonyoung should work hard in medical school after the war is over.
âyouâll make a good nurse,â medic hong said a few weeks back. it still sticks with him until now. itâs just so⊠unexpected. itâs encouraging to have someone as professional as medic hong have trust in him, as if itâs a form of reassurance. a way to tell soonyoung that heâs doing well. that⊠thereâs a bright future waiting ahead of him, one where theyâll be alright.
âplease accept it. i⊠you three need it more than i do,â the lady says, shoving a box of food into jihoonâs arms. âyouâre doing godâs work here.â
âbut, all weâre doing is taking care of the bodies,â junhui says with confusion.
âi would not want anyone else to take care of my son. you boys have done a lot for our community. you might not see it but⊠we all appreciate knowing that our family will be properly put to rest.â
with that, she turns and leaves, leaving the three boys to stare at her shrinking silhouette. perhaps none of them thought of it that way. theyâre more used to hysterical mothers crying at them, begging for them to bring their children back to life, or having to keep children in the office because a sight of a dead body is never for a child.
jihoon always thought their reputation of being the grim reapers was a bad thing. but, the more he thinks about it, the role of the grim reaper is to guide souls from the human realm to the afterworld safely. thatâs a good thing, right? is that what people think theyâre doing? as long as heâs doing something good, thatâs enough.
wonwoo turns to them, and smiles brightly. âwell, we should get back to work. thereâs someone waiting at the office for us. weâre doing a good job, i think.â theyâre doing something , thatâs for sure. whether theyâre doing well is subjective, but something is better than nothing.
something is better than nothing, jihoon repeats in his head. doing something is better than nothing.
âsir, we need more medical supplies,â soonyoung says the moment he enters the section commanderâs tent. âthe previous battle drained too much of it, and weâre especially low on antiseptics. what do we do?â
commander choi looks up from his plans and stares intently at soonyoung. it must be uncomfortable, having the stress of leading a whole section at his age. rumors say that heâs only one or two years older than soonyoung, but his whole bloodline is full of militants. perhaps to him, this is an honor, but judging from the looks of it, commander choi would rather be anywhere but here. then again, who wouldnât?
â... then, weâll have to restock. iâll try to call for a supply drop, maybe more skilled medics to join us. and⊠medic kwon, youâre from the city, right?â
âyes, sir.â
âhm, perhaps you were my junior in high school. once the new medics arrive, would you like to go back? you shouldnât be here since you donât have proper training, andâŠâ it goes unspoken. commander choi knows that soonyoung wants to be home more than anything, and even if they need the manpower, they should let the kid go home.
itâs what he always wanted, wasnât it? a chance to go back and tough everything out with jihoon instead of being out here and a part of the frontlines for the war, a chance to go back to his boyfriend and family. so why is he still reluctant? once actual medics arrive, he wonât be needed here anymore.
soonyoung looks straight at commander choi. his eyes are full of disappointment and sadness, as if just being under so much stress has taken too much of a toll on him. if he could, he would be here for him, but commander choi lets no one near him except for medic hong. thereâs not much he can do here, but⊠everyone here has a form of unsettled business.
âcommander, is there anything you want me to do for you if i go back?â
commander choi looks taken aback, considering that he didnât expect soonyoung to bother with anything at all. his features eventually soften into a fond smile.
âlook for yoon jeonghan, age 18, pledis high student. tell him that i miss him, and let me know if heâs still alive. please⊠help me look out for him while i canât.â
todayâs the day the helicopter arrives with people from the frontlines. after incessant begging on junhuiâs part, wonwoo finally relented and agreed to go with them to welcome them back. the hospitals will be flooded with casualties, but who theyâre looking for goes unspoken among the three boys. they canât really blame jihoon for holding on to any glimmer of hope, even if they wish he didnât. less hoping means less heartbreak, but itâs only human.
the helicopters will be flying from the safest part of the military camp to the nearest hospital, and although itâll take the whole night to reach gidang hospital , itâs worth it if itâs for jihoon. apparently, foreign aid will be coming soon, with supply drops and more manpower for the war. after a year of waiting, things are finally looking up. maybe⊠maybe itâll all end soon.
some of the staff on shift actually do recognize them as the grim reapers, and let them wait instead of chasing them away. âso⊠who is it that youâre looking for?â one of the nurses asks. heâs familiar. a choir senior, jihoon thinks, but thatâs irrelevant.
wonwoo and junhui immediately look at jihoon. tired, ragged jihoon whoâs been doing nothing but wishing on stars for soonyoungâs safety every single night. for jihoon, he doesnât dare hope for soonyoung to return. he just wants him to be safe, and thatâs enough.
âkwon soonyoung,â jihoon says so softly, like a prayer leaving his lips. âif you could⊠can you check the records for him?â
the nurse looks at him with a mix of sympathy and pity. âof course, hoon. you three should rest first, you all have been working very hard.â the moment the nurse mentions it, jihoon can feel his exhaustion wash over him, finally catching up with him.
when he wakes up again, kwon soonyoung is sitting in the chair opposite him, dozing off on his chair. is this a dream? âjihoon, youâre awake! i didnât want to wake you up since you looked like you needed the rest.â warm arms wrap around him, and this is the feeling of home, something he sorely missed all this while. âi missed you. i missed you every single day.â
jihoon hugs him back, clinging on tighter than before. âi missed you too, you idiot. i was so worried about you since no one knew where you were- are you hurt?â
âiâm okay. no injuries, see?â soonyoung says, laughing. âiâm right here, arenât i? hoonie, please donât cry, iâm here.â
he didnât even realize that he was crying, but soonyoung wipes his tears away for him like before, cupping his face in his hands before kissing him gently. heâs here, right in front of him. no more wishing. the kwon soonyoung in front of him is very much real and very much alive.
âyouâre home.â
âiâm home.â


















