People think of periods in their lives in different ways. Some view them as whole years, with smaller sub periods within them. Some take the “era” approach, times where they were a certain way for a time. Some even use major life events as check points, from graduation to marriage to having kids.
Harry thinks of his life in three chapters: before Louis, during Louis, and after Louis.
harry had it all. a successful solo career, amazing friends, a wonderful partner. when his partner of 10 years breaks up with him out of the blue, he convinces himself it was mutual to cope. when he realizes that he’s still in love and the breakup was never mutual, he does what he should’ve done before: fight to be with louis.
truth be told i never was yours (if you love me, let me go) (39.5k)
♚ EXCERPTS OF LEE HYUK’S PAST
VERSE THREE: I DREAMED OF A HAPPY ENDING
tw: mentions of murder, blood, death, abuse, inebriation, overdose, presumption of suicide, fire, cigarette use.
You’re just like your crazy mother.
A burden. A fearful thing who can’t do anything.
Maybe you should’ve ended up just like her.
It’s what your father always told you. Time and time again; a sharp hammer hitting a bent nail even when deeply and crookedly stuck in wood. It’s what he always yelled when he arrived home, sloshed out of his mind. Inebriated laughter constantly echoed through; a maddening ring whenever he banged on the door of a room he personally kept with a tightened lock as to maintain you inside, like a prisoner. He gained amusement whenever he heard you gasp and hide under the covers of your bed; scrambling to the nearest corner of the mattress. The least you wanted was to feel the heavy power of his hand; a hand that showed you nothing but pain, a hand which was never coded with affection.
It was just you and him. Your mother died when you were only nine years old. The memory is still drilled in your brain, because you were the one who found her without a pulse after a supposed overdose; pills loosely latched onto limp hand and a broken glass with spilled water scattered on the floor. You begged her to wake up, to please run away with you whilst they still had time, but there was no response. Your mom was gone and you were left under the care of a selfish soul who only believed his lavish position mattered.
A king with a filthy crown in an organization that upheld illicit activities.
Horrible, isn’t it? How others saw him as a figure to admire outside the nightmarish house, not knowing he kept a little kid under lock and key with barely enough food to keep going. He couldn’t bear to look at you, for you were the spitting image of the person he married and the person he hated, all at the same time. Because your eyes reminded him of her, as well as your stubbornness whenever he opened the door and you dared to fight back (weakly so, you could never win). He never talked about you with others; dared to say he never had a child, just a widower who never really mourned the loss of his wife.
You dumb kid!
Don’t you know? You’ll stay in there forever if you keep fighting me.
I’m trying to give you a chance!
And you’re being an ungrateful bastard.
Keep biting me, see who ends up destroying who!
One day, the smell of ash and smoke filled your nostrils while you were sleeping. Your father unconsciously began a fire in one of his drunken webs, falling asleep with lit cigarette mercilessly licking the curtains. For some, such a situation would’ve been terrible. For you, it was freedom.
The neighbors were the ones to alert the police about it. You remember running as soon as the fire swallowed part of the door, creating a hole that was big enough for you to slide under. However, your lungs were congested with smoke and you couldn’t even reach the house’s garden when you fell unconscious. It was a good thing the authorities arrived on time; enough to locate you and send you to the nearest hospital.
It was said you were the only survivor.
Years later, you’d find out that was a lie.
When you wake up, you feel disorientated and ready to flee once more despite dizziness. You don’t want to be there. You don’t want to get back to the place you escaped from. You rip the strange things attached to your arms so you can hop off the bed. But when you do that, someone stops you.
A woman. A police officer; hand holding onto your shoulder as if her life depended on it. Looking up with a rabid gaze, you were met not with the usual hatred but concern.
Don’t worry, little one.
I’ll make sure you never suffer again.
Lee Da-Eun. She was the one who took you under her wing; gave you her last name. She’s the reason why you decided to become a detective, too.
She taught you to read and write; gave you the education you deserved.
She believed in the potential you never fully showed before.
And when she thought you were ready to partake in a public school, she sent you to one; the best one she could afford.
Da-Eun sent you to self-defense classes, too. She was scared a kid with an obscure background and social issues could get unfairly teased. She also knew you had gathered anger from all those years of the past, so she wanted to give you a type of catharsis.
You find art it’s cathartic to you, too. It calms you down, disconnects you from the world around you. Da-Eun keeps your drawings on the fridge and also some she’s framed in the living room. She’s proud of you, her son.
You were healing. You thought your life wasn’t so bad.
Until the story repeated once more.
You’re sixteen and on your way home. When you arrive, you notice that the door of the apartment is ajar. Your hand pushes it so it fully opens and you hesitatingly call for her name. There’s no response. You walk further inside and begin to tremble when a trail of blood is found.
Still, you follow it.
That’s when you find her.
Eomma, please wake up.
You’ll be okay, won’t you?
Eomma---
Death comes to your door once more; you fall to your knees, don’t even realize you bruised them with such harsh knock against the floor. There’s crimson attached to your hands as you attempt to bring her back, but just like your biological mother all those years ago, she doesn’t return.
She leaves you.
Someone takes her away.
Rips her life away from her body.
Tears begin to flood your eyes, you don’t have the force to call someone for help.
It takes a moment, but someone finds you near her body.
You have blood all over you: Your hair, your cheeks, your neck.
It almost looks like you’re the culprit, but the man who finds you has the heart to take you to his home before he calls the authorities to take care of what happened at your place. He gets you cleaned up and his wife bursts into tears when seeing you; destroyed and with a blank stare.
They’re Mr. and Mrs. Nam.
You can’t stay with them for long. The authorities decide to send you to an orphanage. Da-Eun doesn’t leave you empty-handed, though. On her will, everything she owned is under your name. They say that when you turn nineteen years old, you’ll be able to claim it.
Boo-hoo. You think you have it hard?
Everyone here does, idiot.
The orphanage builds part of your character. You construct a tough shell around you and do not let go of it. Friends are few and fights are many. The anger Da-Eun tried to keep at bay is unleashed. You’re irritated, you’re annoyed, you’re miserable. The guards are tired to send you to the Director’s office for the nth time; the other kids are terrified to befriend you. You’re good; you’re good --- but you’re lost, you’re lost.
You leave the orphanage when you turn nineteen.
The money your maternal figure gave you is used for your education.
You’re determined to become like her.
So you return to the streets of Seoul; the Nam Family happily offers you a room under their roof. At least, until you’re able to settle down elsewhere. You go to school and help Mr. and Mrs. Nam with their different businesses during your free time.
With Mr. Nam, you become a student at his Taekwondo Studio. Da-Eun would be proud. You’re still a feisty thing, but at least you’re using your mulish behavior to defend yourself better and help others.
With Mrs. Nam, you help her clean at closing hours and also buy ingredients that go scarce; she makes Bungeoppang, the best in entire Seoul.
They’re proud of you when you tell them that your efforts paid off: you’ve been offered a full ride scholarship for a college in London. They tell you to take this once in a lifetime opportunity, so you do.
You’re healing again.
You deserve it, Hyuk.
It’s about time you get your wings and fly.
Fly away and chase what you wish to do.
In London, you meet the platonic love of your life, Patrick Myungdae Grace. He’s in the same class as you are and had to ask him for a sharpener with broken English and gestures that got a little out of hand; misinterpreted. It’s funny to think about it, now.
He understands you like no one else.
The deep connection you thought you’d never have arrives with him.
He becomes the only one you fully trust in this crooked world. The one you adore unconditionally.
He’s forever stuck with you --- you promised, and you’re not one to break promises.
Now you’re here, years later.
What’s going on with you?
Years later, you graduate and become one of the brightest detectives in Gangnam. Still with sourness in soul, but with a heart that never went bad.
You find out the truth behind the death of your two mothers.
They were connected by the same culprit: Your father.
This is how you find out he’s still alive.
You send him to rot in jail.
Now you’re in your late thirties; your stubbornness and thirst for justice never died down. Still a feisty thing, you. There’s a sea called Patrick who calms you, though; brings you ease with just the touch of his fingers against your shoulder or his gentle voice, beckoning. In this, it’s obvious you kept in touch with him; he continues to be a very significant part of your life --- you’d do anything for him.
You still keep in touch with Mr. and Mrs. Nam whenever you can, too; dropping food at the studio for Mr. Nam to have or buying Bungeoppang from Mrs. Nam. They both enjoy your visits and you enjoy seeing them here and there.
Even though there are parts of you that still feel empty, there are moments where you realize you’re not as alone as you once thought.
You see it in Patrick’s smile.
You see it in the glow of Mrs. Nam’s eyes.
You see it in the way Mr. Nam laughs when you offer a dry joke.
The world is not so sour after all, even if you tend to be.
Acidic as lemon, but still kind; with a soft heart underneath.
You’ll keep going, as you always have.
If the universe didn’t need you,
you wouldn’t be here.
