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Missing.
Presumed dead.
Jeonghan waits until they’re back at their tent to cry. He sits on the edge of his cot and covers his face with his hands, muffling his screams.
Wonwoo wants to remind him that they haven’t found his body, that there’s still a possibility that Seungcheol survived, however small it may be. “Jeonghan.”
He finally looks up and his bright blue eyes are shining and rimmed-red. “Oh, Wonwoo...” He shudders, overcome by a fresh wave of grief.
Wonwoo leaves the tent. He pretends not to notice how the camp falls silent as he walks through. It’s not a secret that he and Seungcheol are - were - from the same district and as close as brothers but he doesn’t deserve their sympathy more than anyone else.
They’ve all lost someone they love.
The small yard behind the mess hall is mercifully deserted and there, Wonwoo drops to the ground, legs unable to hold him up any longer. His fingers curl and he scrapes at the cold, dry dirt until his nails threaten to rip off.
*
It takes two weeks for the truth to fully hit Wonwoo.
Seungcheol is gone.
If he survived, he would have found a way to make contact by now. If he survived and was captured, their base camp would be nothing more than a bombed out ruin.
*
They had been in the throes of adolescence when they first met. Wonwoo was still getting used to his growth spurt and hardly more than skin and bones no matter how much he ate.
He’d been momentarily distracted while walking down the main hall of the academy when he ran into someone and was knocked off his feet. He lifted his head, eyes narrowed and ready to snap but Seungcheol had his hand held out, already apologizing. The stripes on his uniform were blue which indicated that he was more advanced and probably older than Wonwoo.
He had to suppress the instinct to bat away the helping hand. It wasn’t unusual for the older boys to lure in younger recruits with kindness only to coerce them into running errands or, if they’re really unlucky, take them behind the dorms to be thrashed into submission.
But he detected a familiar cadence to Seungcheol’s voice. Hesitant, he had let himself be pulled to his feet.
Later, he’ll meet plenty of people who are better looking, prettier, more devastatingly handsome but none of them will strike Wonwoo in quite the same way Seungcheol did in that moment.
*
Jeonghan is a constant reminder that no matter how well Wonwoo knew Seungcheol, there were parts of him that he’ll forever be unable to grasp. He’s not cruel enough to avoid him completely but never misses an opportunity to dismiss himself from Jeonghan’s company.
He knows, of course. Jeonghan is as perceptive as he is beautiful and Wonwoo wonders which aspect Seungcheol loved more.
*
“Wonwoo.”
He can feel the tears sliding down his temple when he opens his eyes. The tent is dark save for the sliver of moonlight that pierces the space between the entrance flaps. He knows without looking that Jeonghan is crouched next to his cot.
“You were crying in your sleep again.”
Again? How many times has this happened?
“I’m sorry.” He hates the way his voice trembles.
Jeonghan sighs. “Don’t be. Never with me.”
*
Next time, Wonwoo awakens in a rage, a snarl shredding his throat as he claws at his chest.
Jeonghan scrabbles over to him in an instant. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re okay. Breathe.”
Wonwoo shakes his head. “I can’t,” he gasps.
“Yes, you can. You must.” Jeonghan places a hand on his face. It’s warm and dry. “Slow. Slowly.”
It hurts but he tries and after a while, the pressure in his head dissipates. His eyes have adjusted to the dark and he can make out Jeonghan’s silhouette even if not his features. He doesn’t need to; he’s stared at Jeonghan’s beauty long enough, wondering exactly what Seungcheol saw and felt when he looked at him.
“Good. Just like that.” Evidently satisfied, he goes to pull away his hand but Wonwoo clasps it in one of his own.
“What…” He inhales sharply. “What was he like?”
Jeonghan is silent for a moment. “You knew him longer than I did.”
Which is technically true but it was never enough. “When I wasn’t around. What was he like when it was just the two of you?” He props himself up on an elbow so that he’s level with Jeonghan.
“I don’t know what you mean.” He’s uncharacteristically hesitant.
Wonwoo weaves his free hand into Jeonghan’s hair. He had expected the blond strands to be brittle but they’re soft, sliding easily through his fingers. “You do. Show me.” His lips land on the corner of Jeonghan’s mouth but the ask is obvious, pulsing just below the surface.
Jeonghan tenses. “Why?” The tiniest puff of air fans against his cheek.
“Because he’s gone.” Wonwoo’s hands tighten. “And I miss him.”
Don’t you?
Jeonghan shoves him back down on the cot and Wonwoo thinks that he’s going to hit him but he doesn’t. Instead, he climbs across the length of Wonwoo’s body until his knees straddle either side of his waist and he looms over him. “You think this will help?” His voice is thick with tears and he sounds exhausted. “It won’t bring him back.”
“I know.” Wonwoo can sense his heartbeat in his palms and he grasps the back of Jeonghan’s thighs in an attempt to ease the gallop. “Nothing will.”
It feels like an eternity before Jeonghan bends forward and kisses him. He tastes like floral tea and tobacco. He’s picked up smoking again since Seungcheol died.
Wonwoo jolts as one of Jeonghan’s hands,the bionic one he’s pretty sure, reaches under his shirt and creeps across his ribcage. He swallows down a groan when Jeonghan rolls the bud of his nipple between his fingers and his head begins to swim with speculations about Seungcheol.
Is this what he liked? Gentle kisses and rough touches?
Or is Jeonghan mimicking what Seungcheol used to do to him?
Wonwoo doesn’t know which he prefers before realizing that it doesn’t matter. Jeonghan isn’t Seungcheol. Neither is he.
“Jeonghan.”
He uses his natural hand to coax Wonwoo through his pants.
“Wait.”
He freezes and pulls away, sitting up. “What is it?”
Wonwoo thinks he might die from shame. He would have run out of the tent if he wasn’t still trapped beneath Jeonghan.
“He asked me to take care of you should anything happen to him.”
Of course Seungcheol would make Jeonghan promise something like that but only because he had no idea of how deeply Wonwoo’s greed runs.
“What do you want? Tell me.” He pauses. “Do you wish I had gone instead of him?”
Wonwoo doesn’t answer. There’s no need.
Jeonghan hums and grabs at the waistband of Wonwoo’s pants. “So do I.”
*
He’s in the armory when he hears the news. Some young, fresh-faced, freckled recruit with a heavy southern dialect tells him that Seungcheol is in the infirmary. Unwell but alive.
Wonwoo drops the weapon he’d been holding his hands and doesn’t concern himself with the shattering noise it makes upon hitting the ground. He’ll be punished for it later, after he’s seen Seungcheol for himself. He manages three calm steps from the armory before he begins to run. He brushes past an officer without stopping to salute and yes, that’ll be added to his list of reprimands.
He doesn't care.
The infirmary has fifty beds, most of them occupied.
“Wonwoo.”
Jeonghan’s blond hair is beacon in the dim canopy and for the first time in over a month, Wonwoo is glad to see him. “Where is he?”
“In a private area. They’re still tending to his wounds but he’ll be alright.”
Wonwoo nods, not trusting himself to speak without breaking down.
“Wonwoo.” It’s rare for Jeonghan to look unsure but he does. “About the other night…I’m sorry.”
“Why?” If anyone needs to apologize, it’s him. He started it, letting his grief get the better of his judgement. “It doesn’t matter.” It does but they’ll deal with it later. After. “Seungcheol is back.”
“Yes.” Jeonghan’s eyes brighten. Two glowing points in a vast universe. “He’s come back to us.”