Chapter Text
Coincidentally enough, the first time Jeonghan made a promise to Joshua happened to be the same as the last time Jeonghan made a promise to Joshua.
('I’ll go pick up lunch and meet you in half an hour,' 'Promise?' 'Promise.')
Joshua’s voice echoing through the phone, smooth like a body of water, simply flowing, flowing, flowing when he asked Jeonghan to promise that he would be there. When Jeonghan let out a sigh and a laugh so airy he could brush the strands of Joshua’s hair out of his face if they had been in the same place, and although they weren’t, Jeonghan could sometimes imagine feeling those usual sparks that appeared on the surface of Joshua’s skin whenever his fingers happened to find their way onto the surface of his body.
It’d happened like that when they’d been dating at the beginning, when Jeonghan called Joshua, completely drained and just overall tired with life, just waiting for something to hurry up and take him by storm. A lightning bolt straight to his chest, igniting everything into a shade of red Jeonghan had never seen before Joshua but found in the back of his vision for an eternity after him.
Jeonghan had never been one to categorise things by colour, shape, or texture, but if he had, those tiny little bursts of energy Joshua gave him would have been stowed into the back of every section; the top of every ladder until it was the final gleaming star that spun in circles and waited to be claimed by whoever found themselves worthy enough to receive them.
Jeonghan still didn’t find himself worthy— not after years of finding Joshua’s hand intertwined between his own, admiring the two tiny jewels that sat on their little fingers. These two tiny reminders of what was in store for them in the near future.
Jeonghan didn’t know much about worth, but he knew things about luck. Rainbows, horseshoes, and four-leaf clovers scattered throughout his backyard. Wishbones given to him by his mom that they pulled apart at the same time and stared at, wanting, waiting, wondering; shooting stars flickering in and out of his line of sight until they’d flown across the entire sky above him and settled into the ground below, too far out of Jeonghan’s line of sight for him to find it any longer; a swallow soaring between the trees in the front yard of their complex, eliciting the smallest of grins from Jeonghan’s lips, a familiar series of vibrations, bzz-bzzz-bzzz — bzzzz shaking in his pocket only making his smile widen at the sight of the message received.
Soonyoung said that his luck was solely what it was— luck. Jihoon said he must’ve done something great in his past life to be rewarded like this. Minseok thought similarly, telling Jeonghan that his luck was due to suffering he’d endured in one of those lives that felt like an eternity ago. Kyungsoo said that he’d been blessed from before his birth, bound to only find good things falling to place at his feet and splaying across the ground he walked upon. He’d scoffed a little at that, wondering if a life such as his own could even be qualified as “good”, but at the time, only Jeonghan knew what truly made up every creased, janky element of his own life.
Joshua had learned eventually. Bit by bit, piece by piece after listening to night after night of Jeonghan’s soft, tired drabbles and reminders of the past. He liked telling Joshua those things, getting them lifted off of his chest and secondarily stored away in the heart of someone else he knew he could trust. The whispers of every word that had wallowed away in Jeonghan’s chest, glowering at the mere idea of being liberated from its prison before being snatched away every time Jeonghan found himself shuffling back, hesitating ever so slightly.
But one by one, they found their way out of Jeonghan’s lips, and into the lips of someone else. Joshua said his luck was the result of a good upbringing, and Jeonghan would hum to himself, more satisfied with that explanation than any of the other’s, trailing a finger around Joshua’s body, falling into him like a ragdoll in need of an owner.
Jeonghan viewed Joshua through rose-tinted glasses, and he was shameless in his admittance of it. He was glorious without the lenses fogging his vision in the first place, but with redness clouding his line of sight straight to where Joshua would lean back in his chair, perusing his phone and letting a meandering mumble escape his throat, anticipating his own arrival, a brown bag of food stowed away waiting with the patience of a hunting panther to be devoured.
Jeonghan liked the glimmer in Joshua’s eyes that always appeared whenever he was mentioned. One he did not find himself worthy of but enjoyed seeing regardless, revelling in that sudden swell that erupted inside of him. He’d greet him warmly, and Jeonghan would let that same voice seep into his ears and up his back, and find his name swirling around him wonderfully, the soft pressure of Joshua’s lips against his forehead, muttering his thanks into his hair where Jeonghan couldn’t quite grasp onto the words, but where he could hear them, and where he could acknowledge them, and where he could know forever that they were meant for him.
During that first lunch date, Joshua didn’t kiss his forehead nor did his hand reach out to stroke the underside of Jeonghan’s chin, hold the bottom of his face and brush his thumb over the faint circles beneath his eyes. During their last lunch together, Joshua did just that and more, whispering his name more times than Jeonghan could absorb, remember, recall; a number beyond the imagination, the boundaries he’d given himself. But he listened to them, and he cherished them as much as every word that came before, the subtle glaring sparks on his skin luminous with every second Jeonghan spent inhaling them.
It was a vow. An oath.
A promise Jeonghan could keep forever and ever, so long as Joshua remained by his side.
---
In those first mornings that Jeonghan would wake up to the glint of the golden rays of the sun without Joshua’s arm sprawled across his waist, or the smell of coffee coming from their small kitchen, Jeonghan would sigh. Sighing was easy to do, as easy as eating a piece of apple pie Joshua would make and subsequently cloud the kitchen with the scent of; cinnamon and hearth and the slight crispy crack of sugar sprinkled atop a crescent of slices. One by one by one.
Funnily enough, Joshua didn’t smell like the pie Jeonghan adored so much. He was like an amalgamation of every flower that barely had a unique fragrance to itself, brewed into a pot of viscous liquid. Sure, most of Joshua’s odour was his own choice of cologne, something he’d purchased during one of their trips to the mall, but Jeonghan connected the two together, a rope strung between them that only he identified.
Joshua wore that cologne. That cologne was worn by Joshua. They rubbed off onto each other. They digressed onto Joshua’s pillow at night, and Jeonghan’s hair at night and was swaddled between the two of them, ignited into a flame only Jeonghan and Joshua found themselves capable of accessing. It was a mental thing. Something Jeonghan solely realised, but he cherished it like one of their lunch dates, one of their silent affidavits to each other that didn’t need to be scrawled onto a piece of paper for them to know existed. Jeonghan liked that more than he or Joshua were capable of acknowledging. It was always seamless.
When he’d come back after that first trip, Jeonghan washed the pillow covers before giving them to Joshua, pressing his forehead against Joshua’s in a silent greeting. “Welcome home.” He remembered watching Joshua pull the covers on top of their respective owners, and he remembered not being able to stop smiling as he lurked and admired because that week had been a masterclass in self-restraint for him.
He’d spent those seven mindlessly intolerable days remembering the day Joshua left. How he was half awake, the first beacons of morning only beginning to weed their way between the hems of his eyes when Joshua rolled over and pressed the slightest feather-like kiss against his lips, and how Jeonghan had sighed against him, wrapping his arms around Joshua. How Joshua had threaded his fingers in his long black hair, and Jeonghan had pulled him closer until there was virtually no space between them.
Only the soft strain of Joshua’s lips, the smell of his cologne, and the pressure of two bodies against their bed. When Joshua had finally pulled away, Jeonghan had held his face fondly for many moments, watching the creases on his forehead, the slight curve of his lips. His boyfriend had dragged him out of their bed and Jeonghan had watched Joshua place the last of his items into his small suitcase.
He’d insisted, almost hounded him into believing that his parent’s practically itinerant castle in England had more than he needed, so he’d only packed the necessities.
His toothbrush, razor, cologne, mouth wash, deodorant. The pair of pants he’d stolen from Jeonghan three years ago, and the ratty t-shirt Jun had given to him for his and Jeonghan’s fourth anniversary. Jeonghan had a matching one which he promptly slipped over his head after Joshua packed his own in his bag and he greeted his boyfriend’s face with a breathtaking smile, and Jeonghan had sort of flopped back into their bed and looked at Joshua’s legs navigating the small bedroom they slept in at night.
Jeonghan had crinkled his brows at the sight of a long white wire being spun into the bag. From what he’d been told, that wouldn’t be needed in England, but Jeonghan brushed it off as faux pas, a habit of Joshua’s that he hadn’t yet comprehended wouldn’t be needed where he was going. Jeonghan supposed it was a good thing, having implanted something so far into the depths of one’s mind that it was harder to break than sustain. Joshua had whispered once, “better safe than sorry,” and although used then in a different connotation, the lilt that seemed to be everlasting in Joshua’s voice rough and strained, Jeonghan recalled it when he watched that simple wire be folded into a bow and stowed away into a pocket only Joshua knew the true contents of.
Maybe at the time, Jeonghan hadn’t fully comprehended what his trips meant. Joshua had told him at night, warped beneath a blanket and a body that they were for a week at first, and eventually, Jeonghan had come to terms with knowing he could survive it, as hard as it would be.
Jeonghan knew what dating Joshua came with, and that wasn’t some weird, twisted reality Jeonghan had never found himself capable of coming to terms with because he had .
His boyfriend was the sole inheritance to his family’s company, Hong & Co., and he’d told Jeonghan the first time they realised that what they had was real and tangible, that one of these days he would have to leave and go oversee the company. That the day when he flew off in a plane he couldn’t get on another and trail after him in hopes of staying near, was close.
Back then, Jeonghan had just nodded silently, telling him that he understood in the most comforting voice he could muster; the most understanding way he knew. Joshua had told him that it wouldn’t get in the way of their relationship, a hand traipsing through his hair, and he believed it because they'd moved in together that day and they slept in the same bed and Jeonghan would just watch his boyfriend breathe under the night’s glow.
During those select poor nights, Jeonghan would look at Joshua’s sparse fluttering eyelashes, his slightly rising chest, his trembling lower lip and Jeonghan would resist the urge to reach out and stroke that spot right under his cheekbone and draw his boyfriend out of his sleep.
He’d grab his textbook, and read quietly and sometime in the night Joshua would flip onto his other side and Jeonghan would stow his book away and slouch down so that they were facing each other, and he’d close his eyes and feel his chest rise slowly just like Joshua’s while he breathed, and his toes would involuntarily make their way to Joshua’s feet where he’d tuck them right next to his own and shudder in the warmth he held.
Some nights when they were this close, tingles would run up his spine, and usually, Jeonghan would be worrying about his class in the morning, or how rent was due in a week but next to Joshua it was like all of his worries floated away. And sometimes beyond dusk when all you could hear was the sound of their breathing, the subtle shadow of leaves rustling on the trees outside, and the glare of Jeonghan’s desk lamp was the only visible thing around, Jeonghan thought it felt like he and Joshua were the only two people on the entire planet. It was nice like that.
The first week Joshua was in England, Jeonghan thought he’d managed okay. Even with the looming pressure of school, Jeonghan had done as well as he could do. He woke up, made breakfast as best as he could, packed his bag, went to school, sat through infuriatingly boring classes, had lunch with Soonyoung, Jihoon and Wonwoo and Jeonghan would laugh because the combination of his (second) favourite couple and his bookworm friend never failed to make him smile.
He’d recall the past with Joshua meeting him in the cafeteria for lunch. The breathless kiss on his cheek, the head resting on his shoulder, the curve of their hands locking together. Joshua’s fingers running up his leg. There was Jeonghan’s tendency to wrap his arm around Joshua’s side and pinch the skin on his waist made Joshua scowl at Jeonghan, knowing that it only encouraged him to do it again, and Joshua’s tendency to whisper the faintest of salacious comments when no one was looking, and smirk contently at the slow but steady reddening of his body.
Jeonghan liked to keep those memories at the forefront of his mind on the days that sleep always seemed too far out of his hand’s grasp. His head was notoriously bad at comprehending how to rest when it was just himself, so Jeonghan found himself lying on their bed at night just thinking about bright eyes and curved lips and the smooth plane of Joshua’s chest.
His eyelids would be fluttering closed and he’d bury his face in Joshua’s pillow and wait for stars to appear beneath his lids and the unfamiliar lull of sleep to wash over him but sometimes it wouldn’t come and Jeonghan would find himself buried in soft yellow covers wondering if the aching beat of his heart would soothe any time soon.
Sometimes he found himself thinking about those times when he was with Soonyoung and Jihoon and Wonwoo because once in a while just laughing wasn’t enough to alleviate the twinge of longing that resided in Jeonghan’s chest.
Soonyoung liked to tease him and say that whenever Joshua wasn’t waiting for him when he got home, Jeonghan was like a shell. A part of a whole, the second part having gone with his boyfriend to England where he couldn’t go get it back. He would have to wait long periods where the only salve he got to pacify whatever he was feeling was through what he already had on his phone.
Light blue and dusty pink case, with a picture of Joshua as his wallpaper. Jeonghan had taken it on Joshua’s 25th birthday. It had just been the two of them wandering around the city after a cheap dinner and a movie that neither of them had bothered to watch, leaning their heads against each other and fighting off the urge to sleep because why did they invest in a sixth Die Hard movie?
They’d both known the newest entry into the franchise would be bad, but it was Joshua’s birthday so they ate tacos at a taco cart (which was completely unlike what they normally did), and then watched an unnecessary movie (which they never did because they never watched movies) before walking into a bar for two tequila shots (Jeonghan usually preferred vodka and cranberry juice— Joshua just liked beer ) and going ice skating at a park in the city (Jeonghan had two left feet. Joshua cared too much about Jeonghan’s well-being and set aside his love of skating in order to keep him safe. Jeonghan hated him for that sometimes.)
It started raining at around 11 when Joshua was still gliding along the rink. Honestly, Jeonghan had been surprised that the rink was still open so late in the day. From an hour to midnight in the very peak of winter, it was pitch black outside, so cold one could see their breath. Yet there was Joshua, swinging his arms and doing a chaste jump and spin every few seconds, the smile radiating off of his face.
He’d started laughing when he felt the first drop of water on his face, and while all the other customers ran under the tent to stay dry, Joshua spun around in the water and looked enchanting. Not that it was an unusual occurrence— Joshua was just a naturally beguiling person.
Jeonghan had been tempted and skated out in the rain as best as he could, holding onto the side rails and grabbing one of the abandoned kiddie cones strewn around the rink. He had taken a photo of him before joining his boyfriend because they may have been tipsy and hungry and soaking wet, but it was Joshua’s birthday and what excuse did they need to celebrate birthdays? If he was in need of one, Jeonghan held one in the very pits of his chest, waiting for someone to ask even though he’d never divulge the information to anyone.
They’d made it out of the rain after some time on the rink due to the aggressive demands of the owners saying that they didn’t want to be sued for damages, and Jeonghan had run into CVS and bought two fluffy blue towels and they’d strolled around a dark starry city with wet hair and cold toes and unerasable smiles.
Talking had always been easy between the two of them. Words seemed to just flow out no matter what the conversation was; taxes; global warming; that pretty pastel blue cafe down the street from Joshua’s gym that made the best matcha everything; Jeonghan falling out of a chair from laughing too hard; Joshua flinging his knitting needle across the room, barely an inch away from gouging out Jeonghan’s eye. Inevitably, they talked a lot that night, bouncing throughout the streets entirely thoughtlessly, probably eliciting weird looks from any of the stressed late-night stragglers they happened to find themselves strewed amongst for the night. Jeonghan could care less.
He was full of happiness, this small keepsake fluttering all around his body like butterflies with wings coloured a red so vivid he could practically feel the emotion pouring out of it. That was nice too. Soothing .
They’d gone back home around midnight and Joshua held Jeonghan’s hand to his face, letting his warm breath float all around it after they’d both showered and huddled up under their plush yellow blanket and Jeonghan had nuzzled into Joshua’s neck and thought it was the most perfect birthday he’d ever had the luck of being able to witness a celebration for.
Maybe it wasn’t something that would appear in his dreams, a lush well-lit room filled with bulbous lights and golden sparkles and champagne bubbles, but in a way, Jeonghan viewed that as something entirely too fabricated. Something he might’ve loved had he not lived all of these years working his own way to contentment. He thought about that a lot that night. Satisfaction .
In an alternate universe, he could’ve brought it up to Joshua, mentioning it while they talked, effortlessly weaving it amongst their soft-spoken conversation. They were always quiet at night. Loud noises weren’t needed when there was only darkness around them. Everything felt louder at night anyways. Even the sweet sounds of two voices mingling together into one melodic whisper.
Joshua had whispered that he loved him and Jeonghan had said it too, his expression a bit dazed. Joshua told him that he had to leave again in January somewhere amidst his slow drift to sleep, and instead of letting the untimely announcement fluster him, Jeonghan had lifted his head up and nodded to him, pressing one shivering kiss onto his temple. Jeonghan had felt the warm tears soak into his shirt, but said nothing, instead choosing to hold his boyfriend in his arms until both of their lungs stopped working and it was just two bodies revelling in the warmth and the scent of the other.
---
It was Tuesday when Jeonghan realised that he had an exam in exactly seven days and he didn't know what he wanted to do instead of sulk. Sleep hadn’t been an option for months, and just the mere thought of glimpsing at chemical formulas made him want to vomit. Their landlord would not appreciate that later, so he backed away from the prospect, instead laying back on the couch and staring up towards the ceiling.
Maybe this was what he deserved for still being in school. At first, his plan was just a degree, but his school just kept giving him offer after offer, and here he was, nine years later, a semester away from submitting his thesis and being done forever . A semester away from being able to quit his job at the grocery store with Kyungsoo and Minseok and Baekhyun. Six months away from never taking another test and sitting in another class, but if Jeonghan had a time-turner with him right then, he would’ve gone back six months and sat through every excruciating minute of repeated curriculum for a glimpse of just one person’s face.
The previous night hadn’t been one of his best. Jeonghan had sort of just laid in their bed for hours on end with Joshua’s quickly-fading pillow tucked beneath his chin so his nose could burrow in the soft material, and hoped to pick up some scent of his boyfriend even though it had been so long since they were in each other’s arms.
They were going on six months, the fifth having passed only a few days ago. He’d only remembered because it had snowed for the first time all winter that year. Small crisping flakes of ice had drifted down and dispersed across Jeonghan’s hands and shoulders, small bits of thin ice sticking to his eyelashes and settling onto the top of his lip. Snow always felt a lot like Joshua. Not necessarily because he liked it, per se, but rather because Joshua always seemed to do something crazy when it snowed. Snow was a sort of drug for him, and no matter how many times he tried to deny it, Jeonghan knowing that one little fact about Joshua seemed to work wonders for his imagination.
Funnily enough, in the beginning, the small marginal reminders of Joshua had worked (snow, coffee, bright shocking pink, the vampire poster on their wall), but things just seemed to be constantly stressing him out, and the one proven reliever to all of his problems was halfway across the world. There wasn’t much he could do about it though, and that was a hard pill for Jeonghan to swallow. It was cyanide .
The thought arose in Jeonghan’s mind as he was getting dressed, tossing starchy shirts across his room because he hadn’t been able to will himself to do laundry in weeks. His favourite shirt was strewn somewhere in their bed covers because it was the only thing he could bring himself to wear in the night. It smelled rancid and not at all like Joshua, but it was comfy and worn and it reminded Jeonghan of what would be back with him by the end of the year. That was one out of however many checkboxes had been waiting to be marked.
It was three weeks. He breathed but Jeonghan’s head was spiralling and his legs tempted to give out, and Jeonghan would have loved for that to be his reality, but it wasn’t. Sometimes Jeonghan didn’t really know why.
Their apartment didn’t hold that same feeling of joy that it was filled with whenever Joshua was there. The overhanging lights above the dining table didn’t work because Jeonghan couldn’t bring himself to change them (as if he knew how to). The industrial glow that emitted from them had been gone for weeks. There was a takeout container from two months ago still sitting on the counter, and the candles Soonyoung had put on his 27th birthday cake were still sitting on the napkin they’d placed them on after Jeonghan blew them out.
His birthday had not been a very good highlight of the year, despite the cake being strawberry. It came as a surprise to none of them when Soonyoung lugged out a big pink cake with an absurd number of glistening berries on top. Jihoon had practically slapped him when Jeonghan just started eating fruit off of the top of the cake, not even bothering to let anyone sing or light candles.
During the birthday he’d had before, his 26th, Joshua stood behind him the entire time, resting his chin on Jeonghan’s shoulder and hugging him around the waist.
They’d walked around the entire party like that and it was certainly prevalent in the photos Jun gave them after they’d celebrated. He may have turned 26, but Jeonghan had felt like he was 20 again, meeting Joshua for the first time in November with his pretty clothes and pretty hair.
That sort of weightless feeling of flying except he wasn’t flying, he was just there , levitating where he stood. His wings fluttered at a constant pace, keeping him those few inches above the ground.
When the cake had been placed in front of him, the steady flame of 26 candles flickering beneath Jeonghan’s eyes, so bright that Jeonghan could feel the reflection of the blazing yellow light against his lens. Heat beaming up in rays into the swell of his skin, 26 little dots that Jeonghan had promptly blown out, the group of them— Jeonghan, Joshua, Soonyoung, Jihoon, Wonwoo, Jun, Kyungsoo and Minseok, his mom on a video call— watching the flames fade out one by one by one.
After removing the candles, Jeonghan had let Soonyoung smear frosting on both his and Joshua’s faces, and maybe it was the joyous atmosphere, but after sneering in Soonyoung’s face and ignoring Jun’s loud satisfied cackles, Jeonghan had turned his head to the side, smiled brightly, and kissed Joshua until all he tasted was strawberries and sugar.
Joshua had to go on another trip the following week. He’d found out about it in their bed again, sweaty and tired and swollen, wanting nothing more for the covers of their bed to furl up and keep the both of them just stuck there. Joshua just spat it out, and by then Jeonghan was used to it enough for him to be able to ignore the heavy feeling in his chest almost immediately, brushing it off in favour of grabbing Joshua’s hand and rolling onto his side so they could find one another again.
When Joshua kissed him goodbye all those days later, Jeonghan found the flavour of strawberries and sugar on his lips again and wondered if he’d eaten the leftover cake while he was in the bathroom. He was right. There was pink frosting smudged onto the side of the trashcan. There was also a plate dotted with cake crumbs and tiny dot sprinkles and smeared with more pink, but darker this time, so it was practically red. He blinked.
As Joshua ascended towards the door, planning to begin his leave to the airport and to England once again, Jeonghan had seen him off. He leaned against the door and said snarky comments to try and delay him, and coupled with his glistening eyes and cocked hip in another world it might’ve worked.
In the end it hadn’t worked, with Joshua catching onto his plan and grasping the ends of his hair in order to bid Jeonghan his final goodbye. ‘But only for now.’ Jeonghan had held the side of his face, which was smooth and warm and when Joshua had left after saying a sweet farewell, Jeonghan had laid down on their couch and listened to Joshua’s favourite song, hoping he could transform it into his boyfriend’s tranquil voice and still him to sleep.
Soonyoung and Jihoon knocked on Jeonghan and Joshua’s door on Friday. Jeonghan had spent all of the subsequent days since Tuesday at school or at his desk studying and writing. In the night, he’d lie on their bed and pretend Joshua was next to him. He did cry, although not often, but sometimes Jeonghan did find himself sprawled across their bed, tears dripping down his cheeks sadly, tiredly, simply wandering eagerly.
Jeonghan tried to convince himself that they weren’t tears of sadness; rather tears of exhaustion, but sometimes when Jeonghan rolled onto his side and saw that Joshua wasn’t lying next to him, the sudden spark of confrontation dangled in his face, and he knew he was just kidding himself.
When Jeonghan opened the door for his best friends, they took one look at his face and forced him into the bathroom. Soonyoung made Jeonghan wash his face, and Jihoon made Jeonghan put on the only clean shirt in his closet and before he knew it, Soonyoung was holding both his and Jihoon’s hands and forcing him into his car. Jeonghan made small noises of protest, weak whines that Soonyoung brushed off in lieu of a gentle scoff and typing in their location on his phone.
Jeonghan wasn’t exactly sure where they were going, but they picked up Jun and Wonwoo along the way, the latter of which leaned his head on Jeonghan’s shoulder and it comforted him but also reminded him of Joshua. Wonwoo must have sensed his distress, as he squeezed Jeonghan’s hand. It was that one small action that stopped the tears from flooding out and blurred the rest of the car ride.
Soonyoung drove the group of five to the mall in the middle of the city, and Jeonghan could already feel his heartbeat slow down.
Everything was a reminder. Everything made his hands shake and his lips tremble and Jeonghan was presented with the very obvious fact that he just shouldn’t be here .
He should’ve been in their home studying for his test on Tuesday, or trying to sleep but he wasn’t. He was tempted to just run, but Soonyoung was smiling at him and Jun wasn’t staring at his phone for once (Instead, he was looking at some digitised board and clicking on the attached widgets) and Wonwoo seemed excited beneath his wired frames and Jeonghan thought that as the oldest he had some sort of unspoken responsibility to uphold. So he stayed.
There was a Christmas tree in the centre of the mall that cut through the two outdoor floors. It was covered in metallic blue ornaments, spiralling white lights, tinsel that wrapped around it delicately. It sort of smells like newly cut pine trees, like car freshener one might buy for a road trip, even though Jihoon insisted that the tree was fake.
Never the wiser, Soonyoung argued with his husband and there was a pang in Jeonghan’s chest. It seemed all too familiar for him, so Jeonghan moved closer to Wonwoo who was looking at Soonyoung and Jihoon amusedly, and Jeonghan tried to watch his friends like Wonwoo was, but there was a kid running around the Christmas tree and his hair sort of resembled Joshua’s, and Jeonghan felt like he was back at square one. As if he’d been able to progress away from square one in the first place.
Soonyoung spent a good amount of time arguing with Jihoon about the tree, and Jihoon tried to get Jun to back him by testifying.
Jun just continued to ignore them, finally bringing out his phone and tapping away on it, squeezing his eyes together as the beats his fingers made on the screen became louder and quicker, before flinging the screen out of his sight, and groaning occasionally. He let out small bouts of agreement whenever Jihoon said something, and Jeonghan was tempted to call him out and take Soonyoung’s side. He didn’t.
He blew on his cold and hardening fingers, and rubbed his hands together to warm them up, lodging the back of his knuckles into his cheeks. He tried not to wince at the lack of flesh where his fingerprints touched, no, he simply pulled them away quickly and shook out his fingers, ignoring whatever had just beamed through his chest.
Jihoon took Jun’s agreement with himself as a win, whilst Soonyoung completely disagreed. After listening to Jihoon ramble about his idiocy all while looking mighty tempted to walk up to his husband and whap him on the head, Soonyoung shut him up by running into a nearby children’s toy store so he could look at the tiger plushies.
They all followed Soonyoung who was avidly wandering the store, plucking little creatures from the shelves scattered around the soft coloured walls. Jeonghan felt a bit out of place there, pursing his lips and jumping away when a little girl with two small green bows tied to the ends of her braids ran by, squealing at a woman who, despite her dark circles which seemed to fall endlessly, had a bright smile while she watched the child. Jeonghan’s stance on babies had always been precarious, but he couldn’t take all of the blame himself. Some kids were simply just biting, grubby fingered demons .
From where he could see him, Soonyoung was holding six stuffed animals in his arms, a bushel of rosy fur tickling the underside of his chin. Jeonghan could identify a tiger with a little red bowtie and a wide grin, a tiny white bear with a matching blue bowtie and a tiny frown, a Calico cat that was baring gleaming teeth, a bashful brilliant orange fox with a drooped nose and a pair of glasses resting on its solemn face, a blushing pink bunny who had long fluffy ears, and a similarly coloured pink deer , with eyes a bit too small and hooded for Jeonghan not to feel something lodging in his throat at its sight.
Soonyoung bounced as he approached the cashier, buying the six with Jihoon’s hand resting on the middle of his back, his forehead leaning over to press against Soonyoung’s shoulder as he swiped the card. Jeonghan gravitated towards them standing behind Jihoon who was smiling cheekily at the little white bear which was obviously meant to denote himself, scrunching his nose when Soonyoung lovingly tweaked the little bowtie. (‘You idiot.’ ‘Why? It’s cute…’ ‘Yeah, but why does it look annoyed?’ ‘Well, you do always look annoyed!’ ‘I do not !’ ‘Aww… Jihoonie is so cute!’ ‘No I’m not!’)
Jeonghan laughed at the pout on Jihoon’s face, the eager smile on Soonyoung’s. His best friend discarded the polka-dotted bag the plushies were placed in as they exited, and grabbed Jun and Wonwoo by the hems of their shirts, finally shoving one animal into everyone’s hands. He kept the tiger and deer bundled into his arms and he didn’t make eye contact with Jeonghan after he’d finished fondling his new bunny’s head, and Jeonghan knew why. Soonyoung was holding it and Jeonghan’s hands shook again causing him to drop the soft bunny from his hands.
Everything was a cloudy haze beneath his vision, like he’d had a bit too much to drink and Jeonghan felt like his chest was caving in when he bent over to pick up the rabbit from the ground. The pink fur had dirt on it, so Jeonghan brushed his hands over the animal in hopes that it would fade with every lazy stroke of his hand, while Soonyoung squeezed his own tiger together. Jeonghan would’ve been worried about him strangling the poor thing to death if he wasn’t so adamant on getting the dust off of Bunny’s fur (He needed some time to come up with a better name). ‘Come on…’
Soonyoung nudged the back of Jeonghan’s shoulder, giving him a look that he could only decipher as ‘What's up?’ , and Jeonghan found himself ignoring it, shrugging in return and whispering a subtle ‘.. .Nothing’ in return.
Soonyoung appeared unconvinced, but Jeonghan reassured himself with imaginary pats on his back. He wasn’t the one who thought the big overhanging Christmas tree was real.
Wonwoo and Jun bought them all drinks at a small store (Jun only buying his own because he didn’t want to waste more of Wonwoo’s shiny new job money), and Jeonghan asked for coffee in a hushed whisper even though he could feel Jihoon’s glare poking into the back of his neck. Jeonghan held the coffee between him and Bunny and tried to warm his hands, tried to absorb the familiar scent into his skin, but they were ice cubes. Soonyoung passed him pouches of Splenda (they were out of normal white sugar) and brought the little bottle of vanilla creamer over, pumping milky liquid into his cup twice and stirring with the straw he’d been given for his cocoa. Soonyoung licked the coffee off after he deemed the coffee appropriately pampered, sneering at Jeonghan’s raised eyebrows. ‘What?’ Jeonghan shrugged in return, taking the tiniest of licks at his drink
The rest of them all had hot chocolate except for Jun who called them all idiots for not drinking fresh eggnog during the holidays. Soonyoung told Jun that he would rather be an idiot than drink eggs and Jun almost threw his drink in Soonyoung’s face until Wonwoo walked over and kicked Jun in the ankle. He feigned innocence, but Soonyoung high-fived Wonwoo who sipped his drink and Jun went back to being on his phone because the rest of them were all “tasteless losers.” Jihoon chirped into the conversation calling Jun cinnamon boy, and, well, considering Jun’s aversion to the nickname, Jeonghan mouthed a little prayer for his friend when he started being chased, giggles escaping from his mouth, hoping Jun tripped on a rock or some fellow patron’s foot.
Jihoon tried to tell Jeonghan that he shouldn’t have been drinking anything caffeinated after Jun gave up on his chase, but Jeonghan had noticed the ice skating rink in the middle of the mall for the first time that day, and he thought about his phone wallpaper and he thought the blue and pink case was vibrating at Joshua’s frequency but really his leg was shaking at Joshua’s frequency. It made him tilt forward slightly, curling his upper lip beneath his teeth while Bunny’s head flopped forward.
Jihoon must have noticed the look on his face so he stopped nagging Jeonghan, but right then the smell of coffee wasn’t that comforting anymore so when no one was looking, Jeonghan dropped it in a trashcan. His eyes seemed to be incapable of leaving the ice, and Jeonghan thought he could hear the sound of skates digging into the ice. The sound of Joshua spinning around on his 25th birthday and rain tumbling down their backs and that endless glow of warmth, but it was not Joshua skating up behind him, calling his name and holding his hand— it was Jun dragging his foot on the ground. Jeonghan resisted the ever tempting urge to spit in his face.
Joshua once told him that winter had a smell and he described it as the fresh fall of snow, an old book being opened for the first time in years, the crackle of fire; burning wood, a stick of cinnamon placed directly in one’s palm.
Jeonghan remembered it as clear as a bright and sunny day. Joshua next to him in their bed, tracing his finger over Jeonghan’s palm, Joshua whispering his thoughts in Jeonghan’s ear, Joshua’s presence allowing Jeonghan’s chest to rise constantly while he listened to his boyfriend. He remembered the soft press of lips against his cheek, the trace of shampooed hair and aftershave along his chin. The flicker of energy that pulsed between them when Jeonghan tilted his head and their noses brushed against each other.
‘You coming?’ Jihoon stared at Jeonghan’s mouth, pressed flat into a line while he tried to muster up an answer. He didn’t say anything after deciding that the appropriate time to respond had already long passed, instead just grabbing the shorter man’s shoulder and pushing him in the direction of their friends and Jun. Bunny seemed quite content in his spot wrapped up in Jeonghan’s arms, and he made no attempts to change that. He only continued to glance in the direction of Soonyoung whenever he was in the right angle to find him, wrinkling his eyebrows every time the same leaden flash of black passed through his vision. Jeonghan inhaled, exhaled, scratched the back of his neck and shuddered at the contact between the cool metal and the raw warmth of long scrawls of ink that wound down to his shoulder.
He felt the slightest bit of pressure on the top of his arm, something faint like an amicable squeeze. He turned around on his heel, and inhaled. The slightest whiffs drift up through his nose, and Jeonghan couldn’t bring himself to release the air from his nose. Even Bunny seemed more stimulated than before. Jeonghan took that as a good sign, so when he finally let himself release his breath, the tiniest wisps of a grin stained his face.
---
Jeonghan didn’t know the exact time of when he got home, except for the fact that it was late. The sky had transformed into a black that rivalled his hair colour, or the coffee he’d been drinking every night, earlier on in the evening, but Jeonghan thought that when the clock came around and he could feel the cold drafts of wind against his throat it was truly nighttime.
He had some trouble resisting the urge to go outside and spend the night in the small communal area outside their apartment complex. To wrap his toes in the frozen grass and consume the frigid air in its most natural state. Truthfully, Jeonghan would’ve done it had Soonyoung not forced him into his apartment before saying goodbye, and Jeonghan saw him skip down the stairs back down to the bottom floor and fell back onto their couch in barely a few seconds.
Soonyoung had thought Jeonghan hadn’t noticed, but he had seen his best friend slip the small deer plush into his home right before he left, probably thinking that his loud rambles were distracting Jeonghan enough that he wasn’t paying attention to Soonyoung’s actions. Jeonghan had side-eyed him before he left for the sole reason of him being incapable of telling Jeonghan to his face that the deer was for him. For Joshua.
It wasn’t like he was unable to look at the deer without wanting to crumble… no, he didn’t have the urge to become one with the floor every time he saw the deer. That wasn’t it. Jeonghan left the little creature sitting where Soonyoung had put him.
He’d forced himself into the shower, but after turning on the water Jeonghan found that he didn’t really have the strength to rub soap on his body. Instead, he slumped against tiles in the back and looked straight ahead to the chip in the tiles that had been caused by both of them. Jeonghan’s head hurt and he couldn’t really think straight.
As water fell on Jeonghan’s face, he wondered if this was what it was like for Joshua two years ago. Like a waterfall was falling straight onto his face but it had been running out of water for a long time, so it was a steady trickle slipping behind his ear and down his back. But in Joshua’s case, it was cold and felt like it was going to freeze everywhere it touched. It wasn’t a scalding flow of liquid that wanted to burn him.
Jeonghan wasn’t sure which one he would’ve preferred. Water was stuck in his hair so his bangs had curled up and were tickling his eyes. Jeonghan shut them and shivered under the blanket of heat. His hands wrapped around his torso, and he could feel his fingers running over his chest.
The low dip of his collarbones, the gaps between his ribs. Jeonghan swore he could grasp the bone between his two fingers, but his hands were tired so Jeonghan forced himself up and turned off the shower.
His stomach hurt.
Jeonghan looked at himself in the mirror. The stark lines of his cheekbone, the pallor of his skin. There was water pooled in his neck and water dripping down his back. Jeonghan wrapped a towel around himself. It was too quiet.
This was the part when Joshua would walk in and bury his face in Jeonghan’s wet hair. Jeonghan would laugh then and try to squirm out of his hold but it would never work because Joshua had always been the stronger one out of the two of them. In more ways than one.
Jeonghan walked into their bedroom and pulled on the pair of sweatpants he’d been wearing to sleep every day for the past month, and his matching Joshua shirt. His body was cold from the sudden air drafts, and Jeonghan realised he’d left the window open, so he closed it and when he spun around he saw the deer where Soonyoung had left it.
Bunny was still sitting on the kitchen table, but the eyes of the deer were taunting him, so before he could dwell on his decision even more, Jeonghan grabbed the deer as well.
Jeonghan tossed Bunny onto their bed, but the fur of the deer reminded him of Joshua’s hair, so Jeonghan brought it to the bathroom. His razor was sitting on top of a box of wet wipes Joshua had made him buy a few years ago, but Jeonghan never used them. He liked annoying Joshua with the knowledge that they were there but he would never use them.
The wet wipes were still there.
Jeonghan rubbed shaving cream all over his chin and slowly shaved away at the foam. The deer was watching Jeonghan and Jeonghan could feel its presence. His eyes were drooping shut, and the deer was staring at him, and one careless move dug the razor too far into his skin.
Jeonghan touched his face with a finger. Red. He saw red, and the shaving cream that had gotten into the wound made it sting. Jeonghan doused his face in water, and when he looked at himself in the mirror again there was a small red nick on his cheek.
His vision blurred and the deer was still sitting there. It shouldn’t have been there. It should’ve been replaced with something better. Jeonghan found it hard to breathe, but there was stubble on his chin, so he rubbed more foam onto his face and then swiped the razor across his face again, again, again until all he could see was red. Inside, outside. Inhale, exhale.
Jeonghan dropped the razor. The deer grinned.
---
Jeonghan knew Joshua wasn’t there on Tuesday morning when the sun rose, and he had to get up. The familiarity that had been gone for almost six months was still missing, and Jeonghan wasn’t sure he could wait until it came back. It was another sleepless night for him, but Jeonghan had used it as an excuse to go over his notes. His only final exam was today, but Jeonghan didn’t know if he had enough desire to get up and go put pen to paper.
The deer that Jeonghan had appropriately named Bam still sat on their bathroom counter. He’d gotten wet from sitting in the splash zone of Jeonghan’s doings. He still stared at himself after his shower and envisioned Joshua burying his face in his hair, and he still shaved while staring directly at Bam. He still washed his face every time he nicked the skin on his face and Jeonghan just left it. He was sure that one of his friends had noticed the bandages on his cheek, but Jeonghan couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it. ‘Get it together, Jeonghan. You have a test. Just pass. Just pass. You’re almost done. You’re almost fucking done. Just get it together. Just pass. ’
On Sunday night Jeonghan had huddled in their bed by himself. His test was in two days then, but his head had hurt too much for him to fathom comprehending the molecular compounds of whatever was even on the exam. It passed in through one side of his head and exited the other in barely a few seconds, but not before making Jeonghan regret ever studying chemistry in the first place. Why had he subjected himself to this again?
He rested his head on Joshua’s pillow for the entire night and counted the seconds with his mouth. Saw sheep beneath his eyelids. He found himself shifting position every few minutes, trying not to drag any of Joshua away from the only place Jeonghan could find him.
Jeonghan had tried to think of something that could sprawl all of his inner feelings onto a plate in front of him. Something that might detail his desperation enough for someone other than himself and Bam and Bugs (Bunny’s new name) to be aware of how he truly felt inside. But Jeonghan couldn’t bring himself to do it.
The burdened rise in his chest, the shortness of breath. He had been trying to eat the half of a banana that Soonyoung had given him a week ago, but instead, Jeonghan found himself weak on the ground, his face buried in his hands.
The only sound he could hear was his muffled sobs. Not Joshua’s almost silent laugh, or his light voice, or the sound of him cracking an egg in the pan and yelling for Jeonghan to get out of their bed. He’s still not sure how he managed to force himself onto their bed, but Jeonghan had wrapped his arms around Bugs and cried into his pillow until he fell asleep and the only thing he could hear was silence.
But Jeonghan found himself awake again in an hour with puffy eyes and a stuffy nose and he could see Joshua’s pillow from a few feet away and Jeonghan longed for the person who should’ve been there with him. He told himself not to, that he was being overdramatic, that his reactions were unwarranted considering the circumstances. He looked at the photo of Joshua on his desk, a peaceful snap of him beaming, the shot completely unplanned and candid. Jeonghan had tried taking out of the blue photos of Joshua more times than he could count, but it was rare for them to turn out clear enough that he could print them out and frame them, let alone be able to see some semblance of Joshua’s face.
He moved into a resting position. He sank into the mattress as best as he could, and he waited. Joshua was probably sound asleep, dreaming of his business and all of the attached benefits. Jeonghan grabbed his phone and typed something into his phone:
‘Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the fucking bed bugs bite. Love you.’
It was written in red.
Soonyoung somehow found Jeonghan after his exam. Jihoon was trailing him, a pair of cobalt blue headphones around his neck, one touching the outer shell of his ear, where his foot is bouncing up and down, and up and down, a loose nod accompanying his wrinkled brows and satisfied look. He got a good look at his face, and Jeonghan can tell by the squint of his eyes that the bandages on Jeonghan’s face aren’t pleasing him.
Jeonghan pointed at his headphones, and leaned close to listen to some of the stripped back tunes that’s vibrating through them. ‘One of my students, Karina, made it. Still needs to be fully mixed though. Arrangement’s a bit off too.’ Jeonghan commented on the melody, trying to distract Jihoon from the red lines on his face. Jeonghan mentioned the bassline and Jihoon smirked, scrunching his nose. Jeonghan praised the backing vocals and the anti-drop in the chorus, and Jihoon snapped. ‘Please, stop acting like you know things about music just because Joshua might be rubbing off on you.’
Jeonghan scoffed a little too harshly. ‘What are you talking about! Joshua isn’t even here !’ He said bitterly, and Jihoon knew he’d hit a sore spot. It was quite easy considering all of Jeonghan was reasonably sore. His medicine was still oceans away. His expression turned wistful, and Jihoon slowly eased them out of the previous conversation, nodding slowly. Jeonghan didn’t notice. He was too busy crouching on the ground trying to pick up his spilt papers.
After gathering them all into the crook of his arms, when he was not looking, Soonyoung grabbed one of his arms, and Jihoon grabbed the other and even though they’re both shorter than him, Jeonghan hadn’t eaten anything solid in so long that he couldn’t even remember when. He ended up being kidnapped back to their home, but Jeonghan was tired from his test and found himself slumping over onto Soonyoung’s arm by the time Jihoon had pickpocketed his key from his backpack and given it to his husband who quickly unlocked the door and invited themselves in.
Jeonghan wandered into the bathroom where Bam was sitting and Jeonghan patted him on the head cheerily before picking up Bugs from his spot on their bed. Jeonghan hugged the pink bunny and Soonyoung was peering in their pantry and Jihoon looked like he wanted to murder Jeonghan, and Jeonghan wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea. He just hoped it would be painless for the most part. And foolproof. The last thing he needed was to end up in a god forsaken hospital .
On the table was a moulding loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, spinach that looked like it was months old, and the strawberries Joshua bought back when he was in Jeonghan’s arms.
Jihoon tossed everything except the peanut butter in the trash, and when he went to toss the strawberries Jeonghan wanted to stop him, but he could only let out a pained squeak which Jihoon didn't hear. Jeonghan thought his heart was a strawberry right from that very container. Red and decaying and Jeonghan wondered if another part of him chipped away when his friend got rid of practically the last thing tying him back to Joshua. As if he’d remembered them. As if he hadn’t spent seconds of every moment he was staring at some reminder of him remembering the connected berating and longing he’d whispered to one of them. Himself or Joshua, Jeonghan didn’t know. He hated not knowing.
Joshua was the one who knew and bled his knowledge into Jeonghan’s brain. Jeonghan retained all of it and brought it up at times later, over dinner, during a late-morning phone call, cuddling in a suddenly warm and stained bead. They just had that sort of codependency with each other. It was instinctual.
Jihoon and Soonyoung shared a look and Jeonghan missed that feeling of mutual understanding as much as he missed Joshua’s smell and his voice and his being and it made him cross his legs and dig his unkempt fingernails into his palms. He swore he was drawing blood, but his hands are just blood-rushed and resemble strawberries and Jeonghan doesn’t comprehend Jihoon calling his name or Soonyoung finding some blankets in the other room and laying them on the floor and settling there.
Jeonghan heard Soonyoung tell him that he and Jihoon are staying for the night, and Jihoon told him that he’s going to go buy food but Jeonghan doesn’t listen, instead walking into their bedroom and settling at his desk again and opening his chemistry textbook to study the material he just got tested on. (‘What do you guys want?’ ‘Chinese, please? Oh, that was a good rhyme… Jihoonie! You should add it to one of your songs!’ ‘Over my dead body!’ ‘No don’t die!’)
Bugs sat on his lap, and Jeonghan could see Bam from his spot on the bathroom counter. He had small eyes and pink fur and Bugs had big eyes and pink fur and Jeonghan had entirely tired eyes and pale skin. It was then that Jeonghan noticed the greasiness of his scalp but he couldn't be bothered. Instead, he tied it up into a small knot on the back of his head and stared at incomprehensive words for timeless hours and only slightly noticed his best friend leaning against his door looking thoroughly concerned for Jeonghan’s well-being. ‘He’s ordering sweet and sour soup. I told him not to, but Jihoonie insisted. ‘It’s Jeonghan’s favourite!’ You better eat a lot and make my husband happy, Jeonghannie.’
Jeonghan wanted to tell Soonyoung to not be worried about him. That there was an extremely easy solution to all of his problems that involved a lovely person whose name began with J and ended with A, but Jeonghan couldn’t tell Soonyoung any of this because his throat was dry and he couldn't talk. Normally the thoughts of sweet and sour soup would send Jeonghan jumping for joy— now the idea sent a strip of nausea up to his throat. His stomach hurt.
He didn’t exactly know how to tell Soonyoung that he would not be eating any of his soup, so he took the easy way out and went into their bathroom and stripped and stepped under a shower of water and pretended he was skating when he was really just standing there. But in Jeonghan’s mind, he was there on an ice rink again, and Joshua was holding his hand because Jeonghan couldn’t ice skate but Joshua could. And Joshua’s laugh was flooding his ears and it hurt Jeonghan to think about the sound of Joshua’s voice because no number of glitchy recordings played over and over— Joshua’s warm laugh, the softening of his R’s, the lilt at the end of every playful sentence— they would never be able to do the live tangible sound justice.
For a split second Jeonghan thought he could feel him. An arm around his waist, the other in his hair. Lips against his ear, neck, shoulder. Jeonghan wanted to sigh back into Joshua’s gentle touch, and he did but he found marble and fell down again. He brought his knees up so he could rest his chin on them, and Jeonghan saw the chip in the tile again, and now hands were crawling up his legs and resting around his chin. A finger stroked down from the corner of his mouth to his chin. He froze.
Jeonghan could feel the pressure and it was so, so close so Jeonghan reached out with eyes that are slightly brighter than they have been in a long time, but like all good things it faded away with confrontation and Jeonghan found himself with only a heart more cracked than before.
There was a sponge hanging on the wall that only Joshua used because he insisted that using a sponge was better for hygiene. Must be an English thing. Jeonghan hadn’t washed it since he left, but the water flying around the shower must’ve made the last remains of Joshua’s soap disappear.
Nevertheless, Jeonghan grabbed the sponge and pressed the dry side against his face. It’s rough and textured, and scraped against his marks. It didn’t smell like Joshua anymore, but it smelled clean and fresh and Jeonghan realised that he hadn't smelled anything similar to it in a very long time. He threw it, and it bounced against the wall opposite to him, before falling, falling, falling .
Jeonghan reached forward to grab it, ignoring the shock in his stomach. He threw it again, and this time it slid down the opposite wall, getting stuck on the piece of broken tile.
There was still water sliding behind Jeonghan’s ear and it could’ve been Joshua, but Jeonghan knew it wasn’t. He turned off the shower and almost slipped on his way out, and when he looked at the floor in front of him, Jeonghan wondered if falling over and shattering into a million little pieces of glass would end all of this.
But Joshua was there behind him, caressing the skin beneath where Jeonghan wrapped himself in a towel and burrowing his face in the hair that is too long for Jeonghan to be able to see anything.
Joshua was breathing against his neck, warm and comforting, and there was a pair of scissors next to Bam whose fur had just been soaked so it was matte and damp against his skin. Jeonghan grabbed the scissors, stared at them before lining up the strands of hair falling in his face.
Jeonghan left the bathroom with unevenly cut bangs, and he found Jihoon and Soonyoung sitting at their table looking like a perfect domestic couple. Soonyoung was distributing what looked like Lo Mein and chicken into three plates. A steaming bowl of soup simmered next to him, and Jeonghan could practically see the slight red tinge glaring up at him. Jeonghan thought something smelled burnt, but he was also trying to find Joshua and his cologne and body soap and deodorant. Jihoon was watching Soonyoung make their dinner plates, most likely in order to guarantee that his husband wasn’t going to steal an extra egg roll, so Jeonghan did the same as him, and stared at Soonyoung in the same way.
Jihoon noticed him standing in the doorway of their kitchen, and there was still water and soap lodged into the curve of his ear and bits of hair littered around his face. Jihoon saw it and gasped. Soonyoung turned around and gasped and the teapot on the stove whistled so softly it could be a gasp. Jeonghan thought he heard Joshua with them, his own gasp mingling in with their gentle noises. He cursed his stupidity.
Jihoon had already come up to him and he was interrogating Jeonghan about his hair and Jeonghan wasn’t the best at talking nowadays, but mixed up with the speed of Jihoon’s questions and Jeonghan was clueless. Jeonghan thought that Soonyoung could read that his legs were about to give out so his best friend slid a chair behind him and Jeonghan sat, settling further into the sturdy back and squeezing the lines of his forehead together. Jihoon was still asking questions at the rate of a massacre, and every one Jeonghan couldn’t answer felt like one pang to the chest.
Soonyoung conjured up a pair of scissors Jeonghan thought he’d never seen before, but he’s also learned that a lot of things he thinks he hasn’t seen before have been there all along. He’d later learn that they were the very pair he’d used in the bathroom— they hadn’t unstuck from between the tight grip of his fingers until he found himself in the safety of a kitchen island chair. Soonyoung bent over in front of him, and Jihoon cleaned up the falling pieces of hair, and Jeonghan thought Soonyoung said something along the lines of ‘Jeonghan, did you cut your hair? Can I fix it? Is that okay?’ Jeonghan wanted to tell him to do it but he couldn't because his throat was still dry.
He thought of Bam and he thought of the shower, and he thought of the chip in the tile and the sponge with Joshua’s soap on it and he thought of the hands and the lips and Joshua, Joshua, Joshua.
Soonyoung snipped and if Jeonghan looked up high enough he could see the sharp edge of the blade, silver and gleaming but it eventually blinded him and forced him to look down. But Soonyoung placed a finger or two under his chin and gently lifted his face upward and Jeonghan closed his eyes because if he dreamt hard enough that hand would be Joshua’s and the soft mutters would be Joshua’s and the smell of the food coming from a mere few feet away would be Joshua’s and the nicks on his cheeks would just disappear like butterfly wings and worries.
---
In their bed, Jeonghan looked at the pillow, which was still covered in the same yellow flowers and Bugs' ears tickled the newly cut hair that dangled in his face but didn’t obscure his vision any longer. Soonyoung and Jihoon parked themselves in the living room and Jeonghan should’ve seen it coming when he saw the blankets and the pillows sprawled across the ground, but Jeonghan didn’t see any of it.
He didn’t see the pillows or the blankets or the way Jihoon threw away his expiring food or the way Soonyoung looked at him with sympathy when he snipped away his hair that didn’t let him see, and even though it was shorter now Jeonghan still felt like he couldn’t see anything. Maybe this was a side effect of starvation. He hadn’t forgotten the disappointed look on both Soonyoung and Jihoon’s face when he found himself only capable of poking at his soup, one crimson spoonful entering his mouth and being swallowed. It burned.
He felt blind and for a moment he wondered if he was blind but he could see the fur on Bugs’ ear and he could see Bam’s beady eyes in the bathroom, but he also couldn’t see Joshua and that made Jeonghan roll over and face the wall.
But Joshua was on that wall. The indent of his fingernails and the marks of his fingerprints and Jeonghan was shivering inside so he pulled the covers up, and pulled Bugs closer and pulled himself back over to the opposite side and there was his pillow again .
Jeonghan thought he could see his eyes and nose and vivacious red lips but he really couldn't .
There was a notch in the post on their bed and Bam could see it. Bugs could see it. Jeonghan could see it.
He ran his finger over it, and at that small divot, Jeonghan pressed and when he looked at the pad of his finger it was red and the back of Jeonghan’s neck was red, and Bam was right there in the bathroom and Jeonghan could feel his sight and it was red.
Joshua’s pillow was right there, and Bugs was reaching for it so Jeonghan grabbed the pillow and his nose went down first and he inhaled. Nothing happened.
It was all wrong.
Jeonghan didn’t know how Joshua was there with him yesterday but suddenly he was gone and Jeonghan couldn't sense him anymore. Joshua’s pillow smelled like sweat and flowers and Jeonghan and suddenly he was drowning.
There were crashing waves and lightning crackling in the sky and Jeonghan was on a ship, but the ship wasn’t strong enough for both of them. It was him and Joshua and the boat and Bam and Bugs perched on the wheel, but the wheel was stuck and Jeonghan couldn't move it.
He was trying to move and Joshua was there behind him, but there was an iceberg and Jeonghan was falling, falling, falling , whilst Joshua was watching him with Bam. Jeonghan was sinking and the waves were crashing and it didn't smell like Joshua’s cologne. It smelled like salt and sweat and Joshua was on a boat with Bam and Jeonghan was still waiting by the edge.
He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to sink into oblivion and loneliness. Joshua Hong watched him from above. If Jeonghan focused hard enough, if he strained his eyes until they were practically popping out of the sockets, he could see Joshua’s lips, the ones he’d kissed so many times. He could see them curl up, up, up, until he was living, breathing, his body content.
Jeonghan could see the ripples of water, the key to his heart falling out of reach.
Bam didn’t let Jeonghan have a moment of peace. He was in their bathroom again, and his face was staring back at him, and Jeonghan wondered what Joshua would think of his pale lifeless face. His eyes that no longer twinkled, and his lips that weren’t soft and how his cheeks had no colour or weight except for those small red marks that liked to follow him around wherever he went.
Bam’s light pink fur that once matched with Bugs’s no longer felt like it was meant to be. He and Joshua may have been meant to be, but Joshua wasn’t anywhere right now. He wasn’t with Jeonghan on their bed, lying on his pillow. He’d jumped off the ship and was swimming somewhere else and Jeonghan couldn’t get him back.
Jeonghan stared at himself in the mirror and thought of Joshua behind him. Of fingers holding the skin of his waist, a chin on his shoulder and warm breath against his neck. His neck that would’ve had his lips and the evidence of them would be littered across the smooth curve if Joshua hadn’t gotten off the ship.
There was someone entirely foreign staring at him in the mirror and Jeonghan wanted him out. If he left then Joshua would come back and so would the pillow and the notch in the bedpost, and the chip in the tile, and the red look in Bam’s eyes would get out and it would just be them again.
It sounded nice. It sounded like bliss.
Jeonghan stroked his chin in the mirror, and it was so revolting seeing himself like this, with no Joshua, so Jeonghan did the only plausible thing.
He punched himself.
He shattered in a matter of seconds, and there was glass everywhere and bruising on his knuckles and redness on his counter and Bam was watching from the side while Jeonghan realised that Joshua should still be there pressing kisses into his shoulder and exhaling against his neck and pinching his side. He shook again and his knees gave out.
Soonyoung rushed in then, and he saw the glass and the red and the chip in the tile and Joshua’s soapless sponge hanging off of it but he bent down when a sleepy Jihoon followed him and picked Jeonghan up. He was crying, with hot fat tears sliding through his red cuts and down his unkissed neck and into his deep collarbone, but he couldn’t see any of it happening because he couldn’t see himself anymore, as terrifying as that sounded. Soonyoung noticed and while Jihoon grabbed bandages for him, Soonyoung gently washed his hand under cold water and Jeonghan shivered because he’s oh so cold.
Jihoon held his hand while Soonyoung wrapped his knuckles in gauze and cotton and disinfectant and his touch was so tender that Jeonghan thought he was his Joshua. But his Joshua got off the ship and left the bandages so when Jeonghan closed his eyes he tried to imagine his Joshua in some place too far away from him. A myriad of bouncing footsteps between them.
But his Joshua was obscured by Bam who was still watching him and had a shard of glass weaved among his arm. Bugs watched him too, and Jeonghan trembled and flinched when Jihoon picked a piece of glass out of his wound and Jeonghan swore Bugs fell over when he stumbled and he felt like the bunny was half of him.
The other half of Jeonghan was somewhere in England, but in Bugs' case, his other half was barely a few feet away from him, with his beady eyes and stabbed arm.
When Soonyoung was done, he led him to the couch next to where he and his husband were sleeping, and Jihoon quietly swept up the glass and he was being covered with a blanket that wasn’t theirs and a pillow that wasn’t his and a certain stuffed bunny that Jeonghan envied because his half wasn’t so far away from him— he was just in the bathroom. ‘Are you okay?’
Jeonghan’s eyes closed with tears on his cheeks, and he tried to make himself nod, tried to say something that could reassure his friends that he was fine. He made a strangled noise, something adjacent to the sounds a kidnappee might make, gagged and bound up, blood dripping from a swollen cut on their forehead. He hoped it was enough to convince them, because Jeonghan knew from how slow the rise of his chest was, from the way his foot is askew against the couch that there were no other possible significations of life coming from his form.
He heard Soonyoung and Jihoon slip back to where they were sleeping, and amidst Jeonghan’s glossed over eyes, he could see them look up at his folded up body that had been tucked beneath a warm blanket. They both looked at him with varying levels of concern, Soonyoung’s gravitating more towards some level of empathy, and Jihoon appearing just straight angry. At him, or at the situation, Jeonghan wasn’t able to decipher. He wanted a hug. They were all too far away.
Jeonghan wanted to apologise to them for being here in the first place, but he couldn’t because his throat was dry. Jihoon got up onto his knees, making a tired Soonyoung stick out his arms from the lack of body heat. ‘Jeonghan… Are you sure you’re okay?’ Jeonghan stared at him as best as he could. He nodded at him as best as he could. ‘Fine, just promise me that you’ll eat something tomorrow.’
Jeonghan’s nose scrunched up at the thought of food. He didn’t want to eat, and he sure as hell didn’t want to make another promise, but telling that to Jihoon would be like kicking a wounded puppy. Despite all of Jihoon’s strength, how terrifying he could be at times, his glares. Jeonghan could map the apprehension on his face with how blatant it was— contributing to it would do him no good.
Jeonghan didn’t respond to Jihoon’s question, nor did Jihoon dig any further. They simply tore away from each other, and tried to find shelter in whatever else there was.