Chapter Text
It started as a habit. Small and harmless, he thought to himself. A way to ease the grief that had crippled him for months after that devastating loss. The news had come so suddenly, it had shocked him to the core. How could such a vibrant, joyful soul be ripped from this world in such a cruel way? For a while, he had wanted to follow; what was the point to living when his light had been extinguished? But he learned to live with the emptiness, pain lessened to a dull ache, and life went on. Still, he visited the site once a year, on May 31st, the day it had happened. He was afraid the memories would fade if he didn't think about them. Eventually, the visits went from once a year to once a month, and now once a week.
Wonjin marveled at how unchanged the gray building was, even after it had been ten years since his graduation. The familiar double doors still spit out kids of varying ages, the field still green and well maintained, the stone bleachers a brilliant pale gray. Yet even the school was silent now, 11 AM on a Sunday. The sky was blanketed by clouds, covering the sun. A mild breeze swept the school, just cold enough to feel the bite. Wonjin dragged a hand through his jet black hair, already shot through with silver, and adjusted his rounded glasses. Usually, he wandered up and down the bleachers, reminiscing about his happiest memories, but this time was different. He wanted to remember all of it, even the painful bits. He'd even brought a helpful cup of iced americano to help him get through it. Of course, soju was best for the job, but he'd sworn off drinking years ago.
It's not like he'd forgotten anything about Hyeongjun since his death; he remembered the way his voice went up and down with his dialect, the way he'd cackle when he laughed, and those huge doe eyes. Wonjin had always loved Hyeongjun's eyes, loved the little sparkle that lit them up whenever he smiled. He remembered the paleness of milk that was Hyeongjun's skin, the way he would act annoyed with Wonjin's pranks, but he could see that faint glimmer of amusement that lit up his gaze whenever he did so.
He remembered everything about that fateful day, too. He remembered what Hyeongjun wore: a short sleeved knitted white top with a black V-shaped collar over an equally white undershirt, with black pants with those oversized pockets Wonjin hated. He remembered the way Hyeongjun had thrown a paper airplane at him at the airport containing a note that read "Ham Wonjin is a fool", an inside joke from one of their first real interactions. He still had that paper, hung above his desk like some invaluable artifact. He even looked at it a few times, fighting the onslaught of pain it brought him.
He sighed as he sat on one of the benches, americano in hand, tears already pricking his eyes. This was going to be a long journey