bang yujin was thirteen when he committed his first act of self-harm.
it was a fairly easy decision for him to make. after all, he had so many possible tools at his disposal—knives and chisels and cutters, all with sharpened edges, all accessible to grabby, wandering hands. he felt little to no resistance as he made that first slice on his left forearm, cold metal tracing an incision parallel to the blue-green veins that ran deep in flesh. yujin had watched the blood d r i p in idle fascination, had relished in the sting of pain he felt and the joy that came with feeling anything at all, before he did it again.
and again, and again, until his whole upper body was a constellation of scars, a litany of self-inflicted pain that—despite what the jagged white lines represented—brought more destruction to his already-fragile mind than his marred pale skin.
yujin stopped when he turned eighteen. not because he sought to release his sorrows in a more beneficial way, but because it had become a great nuisance to his everyday life. wearing long-sleeved clothing in the summer was a pain; his boss at the record store, nosy as ever, often asked him about the still-healing wounds that lined his wrists out of purported concern. his younger sister, hyejin, accidentally walked into his room as he changed; she had cried for the remainder of the night as yujin begged her to keep quiet about what she saw, as she filled the hollowness within him with her tears.
most of all, it was hard to make art with fresh cuts on his ribcage. simple acts such as twisting his torso or stretching his arms to reach items on high shelves caused unnecessary stinging sensations, which then led to minor accidents. this, of course, ultimately contributed to yujin’s decision to simply cease self-harming altogether.
still, wanting to kill himself, to feel something other than aching hollowness had become a consistent part of his daily life. upon moving to his grandfather’s estate after his family’s death, yujin had to deal with a whole new host of perceived problems. bang yujin sr. had urged him to receive some form of counselling for years, and had practically dragged yujin to a dermatologist for laser scar removal on his arms as they proved too unsightly for his new socioeconomic standing. and now, he had the bright idea of barging into yujin’s penthouse, and dragging him to some… clinic, for seemingly no reason.
“can’t i just go home?” yujin grunted, running his fingers through his still-damp hair. he had to take a quick shower before being kidnapped escorted by his grandfather’s butler, and he was given no time to dry his raven locks. “i have a project to finish. i haven’t even eaten anything yet—“
a firm grip on his shoulder caused him to go silent. he shot his grandfather a glare, but it was only tinted with mere annoyance. after all, yujin was just hungry, and unable to properly function because of it.
“just humor me, son. we’ll get some barbecue afterwards.”
he felt a slight twinge of shame to admit that the promise of barbecue seemed well worth the trouble of sitting through a whole therapy session with a shrink. and so, with a forlorn sigh and a slight grimace, yujin hissed out a begrudging “fine”, and slumped in his seat as he waited for his name to be called by the lady at the front desk. he found very little energy within him to actually care about exchanging sterile pleasantries with some stuffy old doctor.
still, after he was informed that it was his turn, yujin inhaled sharply, straightened his posture, and walked into the double doors of the doctor’s office. who knows—maybe this session might actually prove to be beneficial.
“yujin…” he breathes out, “i –” this close, yujin is so beautiful. it almost stops him in his tracks, knocking the air out of his lungs. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, “for not being enough.” his heart hammers in his chest, the prick of tears in his eyes undeniable. and yet he tries to smile. “you should get a good night’s rest,” the attempt to change the mood may come off as tone-deaf, and it may fall flat. but the circles under yujin’s eyes tells him that this is what he needs most right now.
“sleep it off, okay?” seungwoo’s eyes flutter shut for just one second, then he opens them to meet yujin’s again. “good night, yujin-ah.”
yujin’s father had long taught him the dissonance between want and need.
the latter was of utmost importance—it was the piping hot food on the table, even if it was simply kimchi jiggae and rice. it was the intact roof above their heads, and the threadbare clothes on their backs, enough to last for years until they’ve been outgrown. the need was more poignant in the long, slender branches of the trees that lined their very own stretch of land; in the persimmons that gave jinhyuk the opportunity to study in yonsei, and bought hyejin the ingredients she so eagerly prepared.
and what was left for yujin? the scraps, both of his parents’ love and the resources invested into him; the cold food on the table, the clothes that jinhyuk outgrew, the colored pencils hyejin no longer wanted. he was barely given any care, any attention, any form of allowance throughout his teenage years. yujin was allowed to roam free yet expected to always be home during harvest season; he was the child never once wanted, yet explicitly needed.
to this day, he felt it in his bones. he felt the difference between wanting and needing; wanting seungwoo all to himself, wanting him to be yujin’s and yujin’s only. and at the same time, needing seungwoo to be by his side regardless of his numerous flaws, and needing seungwoo to care for him despite what little yujin could offer in return.
and perhaps most of all, needing seungwoo to be happy. it was this coalition of needs that caused his eyebrows to knit together upon hearing seungwoo’s apology, the most expressive he’s ever been since his near-death. he couldn’t bear to listen to the younger man’s self-depreciation—not when he was the best damn thing to ever happen to yujin.
“that’s not true.” his words were low, solemn. careful hands roamed and settled on the other’s form as he moved in closer, his pulse beginning to let itself become known.
and the words began to pour from where they were kept in the deepest recesses of him, in the chambers where his heart used to reside.
“you’re more than enough.” yujin professed, as if it were the sole truth of the world he existed in. seungwoo was everything—he far exceeded the significance of all the aches and pains yujin ever felt. and that, in itself, made seungwoo more important to yujin than any form of material wealth. “you’re my moon in this eternal night. i’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”
and for the first time in his twenty-five years on earth, yujin allowed himself to succumb to what he wanted. he allowed the desire to envelope him in its embrace, wondering if perhaps great need had necessitated it. as he looked into seungwoo’s eyes, as he felt his heart begin to roar back into life, yujin made his move.
after all, he had nothing left to lose.
good night greetings fell onto deaf ears, as chapped lips inched forward to meet softer ones. and when they kissed, yujin felt lightning pulse through him, felt the beating organ in his chest grow far too big to be contained—as if it was not yujin’s anymore. as if it belonged to seungwoo all this time.
it prompted him to move closer, and have his fingers tangle themselves in seungwoo’s hair, as the affection he continually convinced himself was not there finally rose to the surface.
and now, it was harder to stop it. so yujin allowed himself this one moment, this one snapshot to add to his memory; he knew, that if it ever ended—this kiss, or even this relationship—he would at least have this to look back to. he would at least have all the nights they spent together stored into the deepest parts of him, forever cherished and eternally immortalized.
when he pulled away, he felt the silent pause in the cold air. whatever remained of his heart had healed itself again, and he felt whole and full and content, that joyous tears threatened to fall from his throbbing eyes.
but no such thing happened, and so yujin—with his feeble words, with his aching chest filled to the brim with undulating emotion—attempted to summarize everything he’s ever felt for seungwoo.
“you mean so much to me, seungwoo-ya.” how else was he going to say it? yujin brought their foreheads together, his chest vibrating with unstable, shaky breaths. “i’ve learned to not want anything. i’ve learned to only strive for what i need. but it’s difficult when...“
he paused, briefly, to close his eyes. what else does he say now?
what else, but the truth?
“i want you, and all of your smiles and your sadness and your sarcasm. all of it.” his lips trembling with every word that slipped through it. “but at the same time, i need you, more than mere words could ever articulate. and if i sought for one over the other, you’ll realize it soon—i have nothing to give you in return.”
he clasped seungwoo’s hand, the one still tucked around his waist, and placed it over his chest where erratic pulsing could be felt.
“i have nothing. just you.”
if his words caused confusion, if they were unwarranted in this moment they shared together, yujin could no longer fathom; he had moved in to meet seungwoo’s lips, yet again. he wanted—no, needed—to show his appreciation, to show seungwoo how much he was cherished, and—
loved.
love.
yujin loved seungwoo.
yujin loves seungwoo.
and the words grappled at his insides, tearing down all the resolve he had ever built within him.
yet even as he felt himself grow cold, as if ice had begun to form and creep into his bloodstream—even as his brain yelled and screamed at him to run away—yujin steeled himself.
Hello everyone, we are aware that the Lunar New Year actually falls on Tuesday, February 5th but as we have something planned for next week we will be moving it to this week. Enjoy! Feel free to change them into threads.
❝ i just felt a chill… grandpa/grandma is that you? ❞
❝ how many lucky envelopes did you get? ❞
❝ no! don’t sweep before the new years! ❞
❝ wait… what were the greetings again? ❞
❝ you know if you do that now you’re going to be doing that all year, right? ❞
❝ oh no, bad luck at the beginning of the new year? that’s rough. ❞
❝ how many incense sticks did you burn in here?! ❞
❝ happy new years! where’s my lucky envelope? ❞
❝ so is this the holiday where they have rice cakes? ❞
❝ i can’t wait for all the food ❞
❝ wow! the food looks so good! ❞
❝ are you sure your family’s going to be okay with me tagging along? ❞
❝ my relatives asked when i was getting married, again. ❞
❝ i didn’t even know my cousin was married. ❞
❝ save me, my mom’s friend is bringing their son/daughter over on new years. ❞
❝ i don’t think my hanbok/cheongsam/kimono from last year is going to fit. ❞
❝ are you going to the new years festival? ❞
❝ be my date so my family doesn’t talk? ❞
❝ i don’t think your family likes me very much. ❞
❝ wow, that’s a frightening amount of red. ❞ (only use from a korean to nonkorean as red is only used by the other parts of asia)
❝ i’m just here for the food. ❞
❝ i’m just here for the money. ❞
❝ i’m just here for the gossip. ❞
❝ technically you’re not supposed to spend your lucky money… ❞
❝ let’s go see the lion dance! ❞
❝ i wish i was in a lion dance troop. ❞
❝ help! I’m being chased by a lion! ❞
❝ i dare you to go chase the lion. ❞
❝ is it just me or does the lion look kind of scary. ❞
❝ ____ told me to get you a gift basket. ❞
❝ hey, thanks for the gift basket. ❞
❝ just came by to drop off a gift basket. ❞
❝ sorry, can’t go out today, we’re prepping for new years early this year. ❞
❝ i bet you can’t beat me at yut-nori. ❞
❝ can we not play yut-nori this year? i always lose. ❞
❝ i helped my mom make the desserts this year. ❞
❝ bet i’ll beat you in a game of jeigi/jianzi/kebane! ❞
“i got us half-and-half,” seungwoo sat down on the aforementioned lumpy sofa, flipping through the channels on the tv. “mushroom and bell peppers for you, and pepperoni for me.” he cast a look at yujin, noticing his hair growing slightly past his ears, and over his collar. seungwoo thought he liked it that way – it gave yujin somewhat of a more rugged look, different than one would expect of the director of a company he really was. “did you even eat dinner earlier?” he frowned, knowing exactly the unfavourable outcomes of that decision. it would explain why yujin was so drunk. intoxicating, in his scintillating presence.
in yujin’s mind, seungwoo’s apartment was his home.
of course, being a single male in his mid-twenties meant he had a bachelor pad of his own; a luxury penthouse with all the material things he could possibly want or need, with imported furniture and décor totalling up to billions of won. but even with the palatial grandeur of his apartment, it was soulless and empty—a mirror image of its lone owner; yujin would rather spend his cold evenings in the confines of seungwoo’s flat, where the aforementioned male was always only a few feet away, where yujin could sink into the younger man’s bed and be surrounded with his scent and his voice and his smile at all times (but of course, yujin would never admit that to anyone, not even to himself—it was embarrassing to be so attached to someone, and so so so horribly terrifying).
yujin answered seungwoo’s inquiry with a short “nope”, popping the p with a slight snicker as he dropped onto the other end of the couch. he trained his eyes on seungwoo’s face, wondering if the divine being that took away his family was the same one to give him seungwoo. because if that was the case, the trade-off should have been absolute; it should have killed off his hyung as well.
“i was supposed to eat dinner with the old man tonight, since we always meet up on friday nights, right?” he paused, briefly, unaware that his articulated words were beginning to slur together. he allowed his gaze to flicker to the pizza boxes situated on the table, wondering if the state of his stomach was somehow more important than the story he was about to tell.
of course, the latter won over the former.
“my hyung’s in town. he was there, and i barely ate.”
his words were followed by a short bark of laughter, bitter and sarcastic, the utter embodiment of yujin’s opinion on his hyung’s hatred towards him; he didn’t give a flying fuck if jinhyuk wanted him dead—not when he wanted to die just as badly.
he leaned in, closer, dropping his voice as if they were conspiring against the world. as if it was just yujin and seungwoo versus the billions of humans on the planet, which is how it always felt.
to him, at least.
“oh, it was fantastic.” yujin giggled, reaching up to ruffle his already unkempt hair in demonstration. “jinhyuk asked me why my hair was so long, and grandpa was all, i’ll cut it for you. like how appa did when we were little. but then fucking jinhyuk laughed in my face and pulled my head back and said, oh, but you can’t bring appa back, can you? you monster.”
his smile faltered at the mention of his deceased father. despite their rocky relationship, yujin’s love for him was strong; he would never have wished for such a sudden and painful death to befall him, even with all their fights and disagreements.
“you should’a seen the look on his face, seungwoo-ya.” yujin had quieted now, his tone a representation of how tiny and powerless he felt at that moment. “he wanted to kill me. he wanted to strangle me with his bare hands. and the old man just watched and guffawed like it was some kind of fucking reality show. picture-perfect shit. funnier than anything on tv, even. it’s hilarious, because it’s real.”
it was with great need for comfort—and, possibly, copious amounts of affection—when yujin scooped seungwoo into a hug, wrapping strong arms around his thin waist as he pulled the younger male onto his lap.
“mm, i missed you.” his voice was soft, nigh above a whisper; it didn’t matter that they saw each other just three days ago, when yujin got the bright idea of dragging seungwoo to maindong with him to look for hard drives and thunderbolt-3 hubs. what mattered was that they were together again, and yujin could continue to refuel his capacity for emotion and bask in the warm glow brought by seungwoo’s presence.
“look at how tiny you are. you fit so perfectly in my arms.” his voice had gotten louder, bolder; yujin squeezed him tighter, burying his face into seungwoo’s neck, which he would later pepper with kisses if he was allowed (and he’d still do it even if he wasn’t). “just stay here forever. keep me safe—keep all the bad things away. please.”
bang yujin was lost in a labyrinthian maze; worse, perhaps, was his desire to not be found, nor guided towards one particular place. he wished to remain running in circles, chasing after the remnants of his sanity, before meeting his untimely end.
at twenty-two years of age, his chest already contained such deep sorrow; broad shoulders always hunched forward, dark irises always chasing wisps of the past—the what-ifs and the could-have-beens—as he attempted to tread through life without any semblance of meaning.
still, he was always on the hunt for the ever-lucrative muse, as searching was at least something he could do. he scoured the bustling streets of daeryungdong in his free time, and whatever unknown force led his weary feet that particular day had known full well what wonders his destination would effectuate; perhaps, to bring a burst of color to his myopic life. or, to further forge turmoil into the bleak depths of his heart. yujin would never know, until he pushed the glass door open with hesitant movements and skittering eyes, observing the hand-written welcome sign and the various pots and flora and smells that overwhelmed the functioning parts of his brain.
and when his gaze shifted to the young lady on the counter, it was her eyes that drew him in. he was encompassed with an emotion so intrinsic yet so exotic: awe, as his younger sister’s novels have so described, which his steadily-increasing pulse duly signified.
“good afternoon,” were the words to tentatively break the silence. yujin immediately regretted doing so, yet he thought it better to strike up a conversation rather than stand still and hope to somehow process his foreign emotions; the latter option would never be deemed proper, after all.
“one bouquet please.” he mumbled, focusing too intently on the only other person in the store; to his detriment, yes, but he found himself caring less and less for propriety as the seconds ticked past. after all, yujin had found his muse, and he was going to sear her face into the forefront of his mind if he must.
❝ what happened? you look like you’ve seen a ghost. ❞
i did, was the simple answer to the other man’s inquiry.
of course, it’s not like he saw an actual ghost. it was the mere act of stumbling into bang yisoo at the park of all places, whilst yujin was out on his morning run. the frequency of said runs have decreased through the years, due to his own incapability to take care of his health (sad truth), but recently he had decided to exercise a bit more.
nevermind that it was winter, and four in the morning was one of the coldest hours of the day. after all, yujin loved the icy bite of the wind as much as it loved to sink deep into his bones; it was this mutual relationship that allowed him to move at all, with his only protection from the elements being his thick windbreaker and his resolve.
he had no idea why yisoo was out in the park that same day, in the wee hours of the morning when the sun barely peeked from the horizon. he was aware that they lived in the same neighborhood—in the same apartment building, even—but yujin could never have predicted this.
and so, with an awkward wave of his hand, he slowed to a stop in front of the younger man.
“ah, hey,” yujin managed to puff out in between breaths, “it’s just—i’m very pale. i guess.” i just saw my one-night-stand-turned-client how would the blood not drain from my face
yujin was sure that his eyes were merely deceiving him. after all, it was by reflex at this point to have them dart towards the shadows outside the car that played tricks on both him and his companion.
simple logic dictated that there shouldn’t be anyone lurking outside so late into the night. at least, that’s what yujin comforted himself with; he loathed to think of the alternative, and so he focused all of his attention on seungwoo.
their little trip to ganggukdong had been impromptu, to say the least; yujin was in the middle of a stuffy dinner party in his grandfather’s estate—which involved so much smiling and fakeness that he almost vomited on the carpet—when he received a text and a subsequent call from seungwoo.
of course, yujin used it as an excuse to bail. touting it as a matter of life-and-death, he excused himself and hurried towards his grandfather’s office to steal the keys to one of his many cars; it was an act he did so often in his younger years that his grandfather’s butler often helped him decide which one to take for that particular day. this time around, he was told to take the porsche cayenne, because it was apparently good for off-road trips.
yujin didn’t doubt the butler’s words. he slid into the suv and drove to seungwoo’s apartment, before they made their way over to the mountains of ganggukdong.
after stargazing and trading stories about their respective days, they made the unanimous decision to go back home and get some much-needed shut-eye (and yujin was in the mood to sleep over at seungwoo’s place, so that’s what he had planned on doing).
but, by some ardent stroke of misfortune, the engine had died on their way down the mountain.
“shit.” yujin had cussed, immediately checking under the hood for some stray object that could have contributed to the engine’s refusal to work. finding none, he closed it shut as a frustrated groan slipped through his chapped lips.
after that, they deemed it fit to wait until dawn, as cars were bound to go up this specific trail by then. hopefully, a kind soul would pass by and offer to help.
they were curled up in the backseat when, upon hearing seungwoo’s words, yujin immediately stretched out an arm to reach for him. he pulled the other man close, until the interior of the car didn’t feel as frigid as the night air.
“don’t worry, i won’t let anything happen to you.” he whispered into seungwoo’s hair, eyelids fluttering as they closed. “and tomorrow morning, after we get back, i’m gonna eat a whole damn cake and watch bates motel all day.”
with you, yujin deigned to add, simply because he didn’t feel the need to.
“Don’t think you saw the memo? But if you’ve got a cute face there’s a discount.” He fishes out two bills and reaches out to tuck it into the stranger’s pocket. “Remember that for next time, yeah?”
yujin had bolted into the store, expecting some form of solace among the tall racks of art supplies. he didn’t expect the musician to follow him inside, nor did he ever fathom that his personal space would be invaded in the blink of an eye.
it took a while for yujin to process what was happening, and an even longer pause after that to decode the words being uttered by the man in front of him. but when they finally sunk in, yujin’s ears began to burn—both from being called cute by someone he subjectively objectively found attractive, as well as being so close to aforementioned someone.
“n—next time?” his voice rose in pitch; comedically, perhaps. why did this man assume that yujin was ever going to be in this same street when he decides to go busking again in the middle of winter? and why did this man even follow him inside the store just to return a couple hundred (or is it a couple thousand? yujin couldn’t tell anymore) won in his coat pocket?
and—the most mind-boggling question of all—why did he call yujin cute, of all things, when he was a literal carbon copy of the descendant of satan himself—his grandfather, bang yujin sr.?
he scrambled to regain his wits through the haze that began to form in his mind. but even then, yujin could barely squeak out “i’m not cute” without descending into self-induced mania from sheer embarrassment.
and yujin, with his last few working brain cells, decided to slowly back away before he could humiliate himself any further; all the while, he half-wished the musician would just leave him in peace.
the other half? it wished to know the man’s name, at the very least; yujin had already categorized him as the picture-perfect adonis, someone deserving to be immortalized in acrylic or bronze. he was already sketching out a painting in his mind as he made his way to the back of the store, his heart pounding along to his harried footsteps. he then paid for his canvases, not bothering to look and see if the man had already left; yujin would most definitely return, anyways, to see his newfound muse again.
accidentally coming across acquaintances only went two ways for yujin: either he becomes rigid and aloof, with only curt nods demonstrating his acknowledgment of the other’s presence (and perhaps words, if any), or he becomes an awkward, fumbling mess, who becomes too talkative and too flustered to resume proper social functioning.
when he met karin at this particular family restaurant, yujin devolved into the latter. perhaps it had more to do with the fact that he wasn’t in a prime physical condition to meet anyone at the moment, rather than actual embarrassment brought about by the young woman’s presence.
seungwoo’s ex, his mind helpfully supplied.
not that it particularly mattered who seungwoo dated. he had met karin from some gala or another, as she was a professional figure skater and yujin’s grandfather—being the creepy old man he was—happened to be a big fan of her. they had exchanged greetings on occasion after that, but that was all it ever ended up being. they were still strangers after all, despite knowing each other’s names.
regardless of their short acquaintanceship, however, the sudden power outage in the neighborhood had caused karin to gravitate towards him for reasons unknown. yujin, having mildly recovered from his earlier mortification at his own actions, attempted to reassure her.
“it’ll be alright soon. i hope.” he added, squinting through the darkness as he tried to figure out the cause of the disruption. there were no generators in this part of the city, as the establishments here in ganggukdong were perhaps too quaint to attempt to invest in any. it didn’t help that it was well past midnight; the restaurant itself was about to close, and there were only a handful of customers left.
“how about i drive you home? is that okay?” yujin offered; it was the right thing to do, after all, as no one in their right mind should leave a young lady in a situation like this. “otherwise, i could book a taxi for you. though—“ he glanced at his phone, noting the small x sign next to the empty signal bar. “we’re in the mountains. i doubt i’d be able to.”
“yes.” yisoo gave him a very slow grin, not caring that he was blatantly checking the dude out now that he was closer. “and thank you, i’m glad you enjoyed it.” he took one step closer, and then he edged just a little bit closer. “bang yisoo, nice to meet you.”
the desire was harder to deny now, when they were so close that the air between them oscillated through yujin’s skin like static.
“mm.” he hummed, eyes unabashedly raking over the other man’s form. he was so close now, only mere inches away from his calloused fingertips; yujin was tempted to lessen the distance even more, until he could feel the other’s heartbeat through his own flesh, but he was afraid of being more forward than he already was.
and how could he not be, when he felt such anomalous sensations surging through his veins?
“bang yujin, nice to meet you.” he echoed, smile widening until his canines showed. dark, hungry irises scour yisoo’s exposed neck, well-defined and glistening with sweat; whatever yujin yearned for, he felt it with such intensity that it compelled him to inch forward, ever closer, and wrap a coy arm around yisoo’s waist. he leaned in, until they were almost cheek-to-cheek.
“dance floor’s over there.” as yujin spoke, his voice was every bit as tantalizing as the atmosphere that blanketed the whole establishment; he gestured to the far corner, where he was certain they would have little to no obstructions. “wouldn’t want my private lesson to be disturbed, hm?”
as he slowly pulled away, he allowed deft fingers to trace the man’s neck, past his adam’s apple and down to his collarbone; and yet, before more indelicate thoughts could form in his mind, yujin hastily withdrew it. still, he kept a hand snug on the small of yisoo’s back, gently guiding his companion towards his preferred area.
once there, “let’s dance, yisoo,” was said as an invitation; a lazy drawl punctuated by a saccharine smile.
“yujin-ah,” he called, going over to his friend and placing a hand on his shoulder. his tone was gentle, as if wary of something in yujin breaking apart if he raised his voice just a decibel higher. “let’s eat.”
silence.
steady, pulse.
he was breathing. barely. still alive. barely.
his chest constricted, from the weight of the seat belt wrapped tight around him, from the egregious slime of self-loathing that cascaded down his throat.
he was breathing. barely. still alive, he looks at the driver’s seat, at the cognac irises focused on the rocky stretch of road.
“stay over tonight.” was said. a request, a command. yujin could barely nod in agreement; his head was stuck in place. metal-braced to his spine like a ragdoll, like a taxidermied head, like a teaching skeleton in anatomy class.
yujin was there. only barely. functioning, yes. breathing, yes. living?
he wished he didn’t. not anymore.
“go sit down.”
yujin obeyed. plopped down on the couch, folded quivering hands in his lap.
he wondered if maybe silence was his best friend, and not seungwoo. silence filled the apartment in droves, flooding the space like swarms of angry wasps. seungwoo filled the gaps with pots and slicing and boiling, his presence providing the slightest tinge of comfort.
time passes. yujin barely notices. he’s in a land far away, where the sun had died off and left the world bitter and cold. he exists as an omnipotent being—the only being to ever exist, and will ever exist. he wondered if that’s what death felt like, but now he’ll never know for sure.
a hand on his shoulder. yujin glances upward, to seungwoo, into worried eyes with such depth that it felt painful to stare into them.
“let’s eat.”
command. he follows, like a lost soul to a shinigami, like a moth to a bright flame. the food was an explosion, but yujin was too tired to enjoy it. his hunger had long passed, replaced with what was long deep-seated but had risen to the surface, permeating through his whole being: sadnesssadnesssadness he had no other label for it.
“‘m not hungry.” he speaks, finally, filling his own space with husk and sorrow. he buries his face in his hands, food barely touched, eyes stinging with tears.
why was he like this? he wanted to be normal. he wanted to smile, to laugh, to sing sometimes when he felt like it. instead he wallowed, he cried, he sulked all the time, and it was tiring. exhausting. a coffin would be a better-suited bed for yujin to sleep in.
he rubs his eyes, rugged palms against swollen eyelids. he stands, unsteadily, and heads for the bathroom.
he keeps the door open for seungwoo’s sake, as if it would make him worry less. turns the light on. yujin looks into the mirror.
he hates what he sees.
he bends down, turns on the faucet. cups the flowing water with shaking hands. splashes it onto his face, ice-cold, repeating the action until he feels awake.
“seungwoo-ya,” he calls out, his voice foreign to his own ears. he feels beads of water drip down his neck, and he moves to wipe it away.
yujin didn’t know why he bothered to say his name, when a few quick strides would lead him straight to the other. maybe it made him feel less alone, like he had someone to look forward to in this fucked-up limbo.
he sits down at the table, and picks up his chopsticks. he tries to eat, again, unsure of how to do such a simple act at this point; he pinches food between the slim metal rods, and brings it up to his mouth. it opens, and closes around the small piece of beef, and chews. swallow.
repeat. again. and again. picks up his spoon, this time, and tastes the soup. good, keep going.
soon, he’s done. he felt less automated, as if the galbi-tang had replaced his mechanical parts with living organs. he looked at his companion; no, he changed his mind. it was seungwoo’s doing.
always seungwoo.
“‘m tired.” yujin sighs, to prove his point, unable to remember the last good night of sleep he had that wasn’t induced by extreme physical exhaustion or alcohol. if his clothes weren’t covered in dirt, he would be curled up in seungwoo’s bed by now.
and so he moves to seungwoo’s closet, knowing where to look by now; the small stash of clothes in the back, all left by yujin in the countless nights he’s slept over, and pulls out a blue sweater and grey sweatpants.
after a quick change of clothes (in the bathroom, of course, as he was unwilling to repeat the one time he changed his shirt in front of seungwoo, which led to a very uncomfortable situation), he ambles back to where his friend was, and offers to help with the dishes.
it seemed that, for better or worse, yujin had become human again.
yujin allowed himself a few seconds to let his companion’s words sink in. yet even after those few moments were up, he still couldn’t fully ascertain if dorian was telling the truth, or was joking at his expense.
“under your… bed?” yujin parroted, lightly gesturing at the door to the far right where he knew dorian’s bedroom was.
maybe their impromptu horror movie marathon was warping his friend’s view of the world. maybe, it was simply dorian’s mind playing tricks on him. but the what ifs continued to creep into his consciousness as unnerving silence settled between them.
was it babadook? or pennywise? (god forbid—yujin absolutely loathed clowns)
or just…
“your cat.” yujin finally, finally managed to swallow down the lump in his throat before it could fully form. “kitten—whatever. that’s it. that has to be it.”
yujin‘s first sip of alcohol was on his twenty-first birthday.
a fifty year-old bottle of whiskey (whisky? why was it spelled without the e sometimes?) was pulled from the dark depths of his grandfather’s office to celebrate his coming-of-age; yujin sr. had half a mind to warn him about the negative effects of alcoholism whilst he ironically poured a sizable amount of the amber liquid into yujin’s glass. yujin had scrunched his nose at the intoxicating smell of it, and as he slowly tipped his head upward to guide the liquid down his throat, his expression changed into one of sheer disgust as he forced himself to swallow it all down.
he collapsed into his bed some few hours later, having succumbed to the exhaustion of his debut into the aristocratic world. his first hangover was the type of skull-splitting pain often explored in young adult novels, but never actually experienced for himself until the day after.
it was only a downwards spiral from there. drinking well past midnight and nursing surly headaches in the wee hours of the morning—before the sun itself had even risen—had become an integral part of yujin’s routine. he still wouldn’t go as far as to label himself an alcoholic, but he knew full well that he was going to become one soon enough if he didn’t break his self-made pattern.
on the days when using alcohol to fill the black hole within him was the only option, he found it more difficult to abstain. and then, there were days such as this, when he needed to stuff said hole with something else—something that didn’t amplify his already substantive bitterness, which balvenie and netflix rom coms most definitely did.
on such occurrences, yujin’s inebriation impeded all cognitive function, and the only sensible thing to do was bother someone else or risk exacerbating his loneliness. and of course, his go-to person—his only person, whatever that may mean—was seungwoo.
their imessage conversation had been going on for some time now. yujin had been staring at his phone screen all the while, watching the blue bubble with three jittery dots pop up to signify that the other person was typing. five messages later, and it seemed as though seungwoo didn’t have anything left to say; a dry, raspy laugh escaped yujin’s throat as he read through seungwoo’s messages again, complimenting the small grin already affixed to his lips.
yujin: yeah i really ought to stop bothering you huh
yujin: i’ll get out of your hair soon ❤️ just let me bother you until then
he pressed the backspace button, until all the words of the second message disappeared into nothingness.
yujin tilted his head back, the long strands by his nape brushing against the upholstered couch. he should get a haircut soon; his bangs were already obstructing his vision.
though, if he did, seungwoo would have shorter locks for his fingers to comb through.
the thought made him pause, then frown. maybe yujin should get a haircut next month, instead of next week.
yujin: i’ll be there in a sec
he stretched his arms high above his head as he stood. the world tilted sideways for a brief moment, but he quickly righted himself before he could fall over. or worse, drop his phone again.
yujin: lets order pizza ok
he typed the last message with one hand as he gathered his things with the other—wallet, keys, coat, check—before he booked a taxi.
soon, he was in soryungdong. a drunk man wandering the streets at almost two in the morning was easy prey for the petty criminals that resided here; and, although fairly tipsy, yujin had enough working brain cells left to compel him to speed-walk to seungwoo’s apartment, and place three strong knocks on his door. 5503.
“seungwoo-ya~” he called out. “open up! your favorite person’s here.”
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