The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff - Carl Sagan
Hello, I've been reading CWAC months ago and just now I found that you won't be updating here anymore (yes, foolishly waiting for new chapters haha). Now I really want to keep up with the rest of this amazing story, please let me know where to read the new chapters ;) much love
I'm interested in Cloudy updates. I've been waiting for months for an update, I missed the post saying you won't update cause I was just refreshing the page with the tag.
Hi, I’ve moved the Cloudy story to my new tumblr so you can follow it on there. =)
Hey Guys, just wanted to let you know that I will no longer be updating this tumblr. It started as a fun art project but now I need to move on. I’ll be updating ‘Cloudy With A Chance’ elsewhere. Thank You to everyone who has sent me supportive messages along the way. I really do appreciate them all.
Hanbin taps his fingers to a directionless rhythm on the surface of his table. He’s written two paragraphs, both terrible, on a topic he wishes someone else got. Sometimes he loves his job but sometimes he wonders if he was just wasting his time writing articles he barely cares about.
“Are you planning on branching out into EDM? Dub-step? Big beat?” Donghyuk asks wearily from behind his laptop.
“Huh?”
“Oh I assume that’s what the tapping is about? Because surely you can’t be doing that just to annoy me, right?”
He retracts his finger back into his fist. “Sorry. This article just really isn’t working.”
Donghyuk sighs and looks at the clock on the wall before taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. “I’d help you but mine isn’t really working either. Business Week is so boring to write about. It’s nearly 3 though, why don’t you make yourself useful and do the caffeine run?”
“Yeah okay. Do you want the same thing again?”
“No, we’re stuck in a rut. I feel like something different today. Surprise me. Might not be such a bad idea for you to try something new as well?”
Hanbin rolls his eyes as he passes Donghyuk’s desk on the way out, “Yes, Dad.”
The temperature in their office is always set at a crisp 22 degrees (to prevent cozy unproductive lethargy) but outside is a warm and sunny 30 degrees. It’d be stifling if there wasn’t a light breeze through his thin summer shirt and it’d be even more unbearable if Jiwon hadn’t sent his obligatory text at 7am that morning.
[hey, fyi its gonna be really hot 2day. SHORTS WEATHER!!! have a good day at work, call me later xxJ]
He chuckles to himself thinking of how many pairs of shorts Jiwon must own by now (probably a few pairs shy of 100). It gets him thinking about Jiwon’s wardrobe, then his room, then his apartment…
…the one that Hanbin has never even been to.
Was it weird? It must be weird. They’ve never even seen the inside of each other’s apartments. Or hugged since that day at June’s. Or even had a proper date by themselves. Or kissed again.
It was weird.
It was backwards.
He frowns as he passes the bookshop where there’s a poster for the new book by Haruki Murakami, no doubt about another tragically beautifully relationship that will have him turning the pages well into the dawn and wondering why his own life wasn’t as poetic or why he couldn’t write as well or why he just can’t be like everyone else.
Stop it Hanbin.
Stop it.
He wills himself to stop mourning about normalcy or wanting to join the conveyer belt of society-approved romantics when he knows that the thing he has with Jiwon is totally and utterly not normal.
He’s feeling better by the time he’s reached the familiar corner cafe. It welcomes him in with its comforting smell of sweet chocolate, happy yellow almond cakes, floral herbal teas and life-affirming coffee. Maybe that’s why everyone who works there looks like they’ve got a permanent IV drip to the fountain of youth and all the customers come in looking like fading zombies.
He waits for his order by the window, getting lost in watching life walk up and down the street; there was an old man trying to courier a giant painting on his bike, a teenage punk with about fifteen piercings on his face and a young couple trying to corral their three tiny children in line for ice-cream.
But inevitably, as with most of his thought processes lately, he ends up thinking about Jiwon and what he’d be doing at the garage right at that moment. It’s pervasive, just like his negative thoughts, but instead of drowning in anxiety, anything Jiwon-flavoured fills him with security and optimism. He’s trying to adjust but the change still constantly surprises him (in a good way). No matter how wild and convoluted his thoughts become or how far they stray off course, Jiwon is always there in his mind, like a lighthouse at sea or a magnet that drags him back to North.
On a whim, Hanbin takes his phone out of his pocket.
[hey, do you want to have dinner together tonight?]
He’s walking back to the office when he gets a reply.
[do we have to cook it?]
[no, hospitals dates aren’t fun]
[then yes, lol. sorry really swamped right now, call you later]
[ok bunny, xxh]
[xxj]
It’s 5:30pm and the sun is beginning to ride low in the sky, casting a golden-peach haze over the city. Jiwon is waiting across the street from his office but instead of walking towards the car, Hanbin feels like he’s walking straight into a John Hughes high school movie.
Jiwon is leaning casually against the driver’s side door, scrolling and smiling at something on his phone. He’s wearing that soft worn-in white t-shirt that Hanbin likes (and has put on his To Steal One Day list), the sleeves are rolled up high to reveal more of the smooth tanned skin of his arms, each ridge and muscle defined every time the sun hits at the right angle. His hair is getting longer now, falling and tickling his eyes until he looks up to shake it away.
It’s then that their eyes meet across the street.
And Hanbin feels 15 years old again. He’s taken back to the exact moment when he first locked eyes with the American exchange student who transferred to his school and awoke everything that had been lying dormant in his mind for 15 years.
He swallows thickly and tries to calm down the intensity of his emotions but the way his stomach still drops, even after all this time, the way his smile is automatic in Jiwon’s presence, the way he can’t remember anything terrible for those few seconds, the way everything was so obvious, even if neither of them said it out loud….
This must be his Murakami moment.
Stop it, Hanbin.
Stop romanticising everything.
He’s just a person.
He’s just a person.
He’s honestly surprised he doesn’t get run over while trying to cross the road because did he even look both ways? He doesn’t remember.
“Hey.” Jiwon’s smile is bright and toothy, it says absolutely everything about him.
“Hey.” He says, wondering frantically if they should hug or kiss or handshake or high five now.
“Good day at work?”
“Not really, I couldn’t write anything decent.” He sighs.
“Oh that sucks.” Jiwon says as he pushes himself off the car and comes around to open the passenger’s side door. “What’s your topic this week?”
Hanbin just stares at the gesture as Jiwon walks away to open his own door. “Oh ummm, the the rise of mid-twenties CEOs and the growth of independent businesses.”
When they’re both buckled in, Jiwon wakes the Beast up with that brutal growl that always shoots straight to the primitive corner of Hanbin’s brain and gets his adrenaline going.
“Hey, why don’t you talk to June or Yoyo? They’ve got their own business and have a lot of friends like that. Might help you get some ideas?”
Hanbin pauses. Why didn’t he think of that?
“Why didn’t I think of that? Urgh, where were you eight hours ago?” He groans.
Jiwon gives him a proud smile that makes him look 10 years old. “Underneath the most beautiful girl in the world.”
“Wait, what?” Hanbin’s eyes widen in surprise and his voice is annoyingly high-pitched.
“Someone dropped off a 1961 California Spyder at the garage today.” Comes the cheeky reply and Hanbin grumbles with fake irritation, reaching over to punch Jiwon on the arm, leaving the other cackling and pretending that it hurts.
“You’re a jerk.” He says, trying to keep the relief out of his voice but obviously failing because he knows when he’s been busted. “Anyway, have all the car affairs you want. I think I’m going to just call you next time I get writer’s block though.”
Jiwon shifts the BMW into reverse, arm coming to rest behind Hanbin’s seat as he backs out onto the street, the movement causing just the faintest ghost of that familiar woodsy cologne to float between them. “So am I your new personal consultant?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the pay like?”
“Terrible. Virtually zero dollars.”
“God, how cheap are you?!” Jiwon teases as they stop at a red light, he fiddles with the buttons to the sound system before settling on an old Drake song.“You couldn’t afford me anyway.”
“Oh really. What’s your going rate these days?”
“One million dollars,” Jiwon replies smugly before looking across with that arrogant smirk that Hanbin finds annoyingly attractive. “Or….like, 20 hugs.”
Hanbin gives him an amused scoff. “Only 20? Deal.”
“No, I changed my mind. I want 40.”
“Oh 40? Then, no. No deal.”
Jiwon laughs loudly. “Fine. I’ll just keep all these good ideas to myself.”
“You are such a loser. It’s all your fault for being so distracting when I’m trying to work.”
“Hey, don’t blame me! In case you forgot, you agreed to date me so really, who is the bigger loser here?” Jiwon says. “And besides, if you blame me for anything, you’re kinda half blaming yourself. That’s the way things work now.”
Hanbin opens his mouth but ends up saying nothing.
Jiwon looks over with a quirk of his eyebrow. “What?”
“I’m stealing that to use in a future article.”
“Okay, I’ll put it on your tab. You owe me one million dollars and 40 hugs.”
“This is turning out to be a costly relationship.” He says with an exaggerated frown that really just wants to be a smile.
"Yeah suck it up, buddy.” Jiwon laughs. “Anyways, since you’re so poor, I’ll get dinner tonight. What do you feel like?”
“Italian?”
“You want to go eat out or…” Jiwon trails off, an uncertain expression on his angular face.
“I don’t really want to sit in a restaurant.” Hanbin says, trying to be brave for once but looking out the window the entire time. “Can we just get take-out? We could come back and eat it at my apartment.”
“Oh.” Jiwon says, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Only if you want to.” He adds quickly, heart jumping right into his throat as he dares to flick his eyes up in curiosity.
Jiwon is just smiling at him. “Yeah, yeah I do.”
“Cool. I want pasta then.” He says in relief but still completely avoiding Jiwon’s eyes again out of embarrassment. “And something with bacon.”
“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”
It’s just one word but it still causes the butterflies in his stomach to crash into each other like a fleet of kamikaze bombers. He wonders when the thrill will wear off and hopes that the answer is: never.
After finding the Italian restaurant, they sit in the parking lot listening to the rest of the Drake album while waiting for their order. It’s exactly where Hanbin loves to be on a warm evening: in the passengers seat, watching Jiwon sit at the wheel, casually rapping along to old hip-hop and in the process, killing him very very slowly.
“You’re really good.” He says.
“At what? Like, in general?”
He rolls his eyes. “At rapping. You’re so good at it. Do you ever want to get back to it? Do it seriously?”
Jiwon scrunches up his face like Hanbin just reminded him of something painful. “Yeah but something always comes up, you know?”
Neglected dreams are something Hanbin knows all about.
“Yeah I do actually. I’ve been wanting to write my book for awhile but it’s never gone beyond a passing hobby. Work kinda gets in the way. Or life does.”
“You should just write it.” Jiwon replies simply.
“And you should just rap.” He shoots back.
Jiwon lets out a quiet sigh as he plays with the door handle. “I need practice. The other guys would kick my ass if I turned up to battles like this. I want to go back though. One day.”
“So why don’t you? You could probably kick all their asses.”
Jiwon chuckles. “Have you even heard the other guys?”
Hanbin looks over shrugging. “Is that even relevant? It doesn’t make you any less good.”
"You rate me way too highly.” Jiwon says but even as the words come out he’s reaching across to run his fingers through Hanbin’s hair. “And you’re not exactly objective. Would you tell me if I was shit?”
“Of course I would! What do you take me for? Not like I’m blinded by-”
Oh no.
Shut up Hanbin.
He talked himself into a corner again.
Panic starts to set in but strangely enough, it doesn’t fully take hold because Jiwon doesn’t even tease or ask him about it, he just softly raps along to the music and continues playing with Hanbin’s hair until they get called in to pick up their order.
The good thing about anxiety is that all it takes for you to stop worrying about one thing is to become so distracted with another until there’s just a neat orderly ranking system. He likes systems. The order calms his mind. He was so busy being stressed about saying the wrong thing in the car that he totally ran out of time to worry about Jiwon seeing his apartment.
“Okay, so, come in. It’s a bit messy.” He says nervously as he pushes his door open and hastily tidies the stack of unread catalogues by the entrance.
Jiwon wanders in gingerly, looking around and chuckling inwardly at the distinct lack of mess anywhere. “I was here two weeks ago. Remember?”
“You were only in my doorway. Don’t judge the rest of it.” He says as he toes off his Nikes and jams his feet into old Snoopy slippers. “The kitchen is through there.”
“I’m not gonna judge it!” Jiwon shouts as he pads into the kitchen, placing the plastic bag of food on the small wooden table before turning around to survey the neat space. “God. It looks like an accident happened in here. How can you even live like this!!?”
Hanbin knows it’s just teasing but he goes red anyway. “I bet your place is worse!” He fires back.
Jiwon shrugs and grins. “I don’t know, want to come over next week?”
“Next week?”
“Yeah I’m gonna need the entire week to clean it.”
He kicks at Jiwon’s shin, the Snoopy slippers cushioning most of the blow and completely defeating the purpose. “Loser.”
“Stop being rude to your guest.” Jiwon scolds mockingly before pointing to the cupboards. “So where do you keep your plates and stuff?”
He gives a brief tour of his kitchen, from the over processed pantry to his collection of cartoon mugs, pointedly ignoring the sniggers when Jiwon finds all his new plates and cutlery still in their boxes. “Have many people over, Hanbin?”
“Only you and the Queen.” He snaps.
They sit and eat at his small dining table, talking about which one of them should learn to how to cook (both), which one is neater (definitely Hanbin), which one is better at fixing things (definitely Jiwon) and which one would be more likely to become a millionaire before the age of 30 (definitely neither).
It’s only when they’re standing at his sink to do the dishes that the occasion catches up with Hanbin.
Jiwon was in his apartment.
They just had dinner together.
He didn’t have an aneurysm from the stress.
What would Murakami write about this?
“Hanbin?”Jiwon is holding a wet dish out for him to dry. “In your head again?”
He takes the plate and nods. “I’m just thinking.”
“Anything you want to tell me about?”
“I was just thinking of the rap thing again. You’re so good Jiwon. It’d be such a waste if you didn’t just go for it. I’m sure you’re awesome at the garage because you’re good with your hands and I promise I’ll still like you no matter what you end up doing but honestly, you should really think about the rap thing again.” He doesn’t know why he always sounds so flighty and high-pitched when he rambles.
Jiwon gives him that one unreadable look that Hanbin had never been able to decipher. He has no idea what it means. It’s the one with the small smile, slight nod and slow blinks. What the hell does that one mean?
“I’ll think about it okay?”
“Yeah you should.”
“Hey, let’s make a pact.”
Hanbin gives him a condescending look. “Are you 12 years old? Are we at summer camp? Where are the friends-forever bracelets?”
Jiwon flicks water at him. “No listen, let’s both do it together. You start your book and I’ll do this rap thing. Give ourselves like a year? If it doesn’t go anywhere at least we can say we tried?”
“Seriously?” He asks skeptically.
“Seriously.” Jiwon nods and reaches over to dry his hands on the tea towel Hanbin is still holding. “That way we’ll both be annoying at the same time.”
“And stressed at the same time.”
“But maybe happy and successful at the same time?”
He shakes his head. “You haven’t thought this through. We’re going to need a plan. We should really make a plan. I have planning paper.” He says, trying to be helpful.
Jiwon takes the tea towel from his hands, throwing it on the bench before pulling at his shirt. “Come here.”
He has a fleeting thought about gravity before silencing his brain and sinking into Jiwon’s arms.
Oh.
Finally.
Their first proper hug.
He all but melts into it like gooey chocolate, savouring how reassuringly solid Jiwon’s body is underneath his soft cotton t-shirt and the slow sigh he lets out when Hanbin winds his arms around his back. Above all, he savours how truly safe and secure he feels in this completely ordinary and mundane moment. Jiwon was just comforting. Or comfortable. Or both. He was the mash-potato-warm-blanket-kind of comfortable and Hanbin doesn’t want to let go.
“I love that you have planning paper.”
“Surprised?” He mumbles into Jiwon’s t-shirt.
He feels a kiss on the top of his head and fingers brushing through his hair. “No baby, I’m not.”
The chaos in me is the chaos in you. Like the love in you is the love in me. So maybe we’re both a little crazy. Enough to believe we’re found where dreams are born and beneath our faults remain a science, where you and I will run away and leave nothing behind
Hanbin would be the type to complain about having to buy Bobby two sets of presents in the same week. “Who does he think he is? Literally the second coming of Christ?”
But he’s also the type to scribble a generic message inside a generic store bought card, only to add, almost as an afterthought, “I also wrote you a song.”
He’s the type to feign confusion (it might be real, he’s not sure) when Bobby hugs him and tells him he loves it before he’s even heard it. He’d probably shrug like, “Lol, why are you being so emotional? It’s not a big deal.”
But you know he’s the type to be absolutely glowing on the inside because it is a huge fucking deal to him.
And Bobby is totally the type of guy who knows all of this.
In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.
Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
(via thelovejournals)
