On Angel's Wings
Description
Chae Bonggu is a seraph angel cast from heaven. Nam Jonghui is a girl counting down her days to live.
And fate has funny ways of bringing people together.
Foreword
For Chae Bonggu, time flows awfully slow. He wants it to go faster and faster still, until the day he can finally return to where he came from and regain everything from before.
For Nam Jonghui, the clock ticks too fast.
Too fast.
And one thing Bonggu learns is that timeneverflows too slow, because the fact is that you never have quite enough time.
I
Loneliness
Bonggu doesn't know how long he's been falling, but when he lands, he knows he would've preferred falling over landing. He also registers the faint tug in his ankle, muddled and muted from the confusion, before it becomes full-blown and unbearable.
He's still for a few seconds, shocked and bewildered by the feeling. It's something he's never felt, but oddly, the word comes to his mind. Pain, Bonggu thinks in horror. Angels shouldn't be able to feel pain. So…
Around him, he faintly registers his surroundings. It's nighttime, but there seems to be a row of wavering lights far off in the distance. The walls of a building rise to either side of him, and a pale, blinking light stutters above his head.
Amidst the throbbing in his right ankle, there's a burning in his back, and Bonggu immediately knows where it's from. Despite the knowledge, he reaches back and touches his shoulder blade tentatively.
It's bare, but when his fingers brush it, it burns like crazy. Where his wings once extended from, there's… nothing. The absence serves as a reminder that they're gone.
Human.
Rain pours down heavily and he feels like heaven is mocking him. He, a seraphim, stripped of his wings and power and position, sitting in some unknown alleyway, pitifully injured and unable to move. It's so pathetic that he almost laughs.
He's cold. He's miserable. And for once, he's mad at God.
"Take me back," he shouts at the sky, but his voice breaks. "I don't want to be human!"
But he knows he's not going back until he learns what he's supposed to.
Empathy. Kindness. Love. What use was that for a seraph angel? None.
The pain in his ankle increases as he tries to stand, and Bonggu finds himself collapsing back down. Another useless emotion; pity. Is it because he's now human, that he pities himself? Pathetic, he thinks yet again. Pathetic and weak.
The rain beats down harder now and Bonggu sits still and gives in to the feeling of helplessness. There's nothing he can do or say to help himself. The rain blurs his vision, and it's so cold. For the first time in his life, he feels desperate— desperate that it was a dream, that he'd be back if he closed his eyes and opened them.
He's not sure how much time has passed when someone finally finds him.
"Excuse me?" A feminine voice cuts through the dark, and he can see a circle of light traveling towards him.
Bonggu leaps to his feet only to remember his injured ankle, and his legs give way at the pain. This time, he can't help but let out a (highly inelegant) noise of pain. His hand goes to his waist, where his sword is normally strapped, but the only thing he grasps is empty air. The previous exhaustion drains out of him as he squints as the figure.
"Is someone there?" The light travels closer and Bonggu is momentarily blinded.
Soon, the speaker is standing in front of him, and the light is too bright. He squints, and finds himself face to face with a girl, who is holding an umbrella over her head and a flashlight in the other.
Bonggu's aware of things. Objects. People. It's emotions he can't seem to grasp, though even he understands that he's in an awkward position.
The girl is small, petite. She looks fragile, like a touch could shatter her into a million pieces. She regards him with wide eyes, and Bonggu is struck speechless for some reason.
"God, are you okay?" she asks, finally dropping the flashlight so that that it is pointed at the ground. The glare is still imprinted in his vision.
"I'm not God," Bonggu replies, and it feels strange speaking, "that's… just ridiculous." The words come naturally like he's spoken Korean all his life. Which he hasn't— he's never glanced at the language for a couple of millennia he was alive for.
"I can see you're not God," she tells him. "But why… what are you doing here? Are you by any chance drunk?"
Bonggu blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice. "I wouldn't do something as wicked as that," he finally admonishes, beginning to feel more and more insulted. First she calls him God, and now she questions if he's drunk.
"I'm sorry for being straightforward. One can only come to such a conclusion when you're sitting on the garbage bags the residents have thrown out. Are you lost?"
Bonggu scrambles up yet again, his pride pushing down the pain of his screaming ankle. Garbage? He was a seraph angel. He was sitting on garbage?
"I'm not lost," he snaps at her, though his ankle rolls and he's promptly on the ground again.
"Then why are you here?" There's nothing judgemental or mean about the way she says it, nor does it sound mocking. Amidst his pain and embarrassment, though, he still feels like she's mocking him.
Bonggu opens his mouth to speak, then he closes it. What is he supposed to say? She wasn't going to believe him— no one would. Pride aside, however, he knows that he is completely vulnerable. He's not even sure what he's supposed to do to survive and the simple thought almost makes him laugh again.
The words are out of his mouth before he knows it. "I need a place to stay."
The horror hits him after a couple seconds.
She looks surprised too. "What?"
Bonggu takes a deep breath, and tells himself that he must survive if he wants to return to where he came from. "I need a place to stay," he repeats. It's all he can squeeze past his pride, though, but she doesn't ask for more.
"You're injured," she says slowly, "Sprained ankle?"
It was probably obvious, but Bonggu feels a bit of discomfort that she can see through his weaknesses so easily. The sting along his shoulder blades brings a bitter taste to his mouth, and he longs for the familiarity of his wings. But they're gone. "Yes," he admits just as slowly.
"And what are you doing here?"
He opens his mouth. Closes it. No words come out.
"Okay, what's your name then?"
The reply is automatic. "Bonggu," he says, before he can stop himself.
She squints at him, then hugs her jacket to her body closer. "Are you from another country? You don't seem very familiar with… how Korean works."
"Yes," he snaps, though the agitation is more or less originating from his own embarrassment by now.
"Are you lost? What happened?"
Again, no words come out. He can't lie, Bonggu realizes— it's definite taboo for an angel and even though he's human now, uttering a lie seems wrong.
The girl seems to consider his answer for a while, eyebrows furrowed slightly. She stares at him so intensely that Bonggu feels uncomfortable and he shifts under her gaze. For some reason, she seems to be… unravelling him.
Just when he's about to snap at her to leave him alone if she can't help, she nods. "You seem to be a nice person, Bonggu. You're not going to hurt me if I let you go back with me?"
Her reply is so sudden and odd that Bonggu is unable to speak. He manages a mute shake of his head.
"Let's go fix up your ankle, then. Come on."
Suddenly, she smiles at him, and it almost blinds him more than her flashlight does. Happy, Bonggu thinks, she's too happy. I'm miserable and cold and angry, and she's happy. It's annoying.
"Okay," he grumbles.
The rain dripping down his face stops as she extends her umbrella over him. "I'm Nam Jonghui," she tells him, "it's nice to meet you."
Couldn't say the same for you, actually. He grunts in reply.
She offers him her hand, and Bonggu stares at it for a while before taking it. Her hands are tiny, and there's not much strength in her arm as she heaves him upwards. He balances on his uninjured ankle, the other hand clasped onto her shoulder. She feels as fragile as she looks, and Bonggu doesn't have the heart to lean on her too much in fear that she would topple over (besides, he towers over her and he feels as if both of them would fall if he put too much weight on her shoulders).
"The entrance is just over there," Jonghui tells him. "Maybe you can tell me a bit more of yourself when we go inside. You seem to be around my brother's height so I'll lend you a couple of his clothes. I think he'll be fine with it, anyways." She pauses for a moment, then looks upward at him. "How old are you, Bonggu?"
He doesn't know. There's so much he doesn't know, but admitting to that takes humility— he does know how old he really is, but telling her he was a couple millennia didn't seem to suffice. "How old are you?" Bonggu counters.
She laughs. "Twenty four."
"I'm twenty five."
By now, they've left the alley, exiting onto a much busier street. Jonghui makes an abrupt turn, and they're standing in front of a set of doors.
Bonggu's seen gates before. He's seen the gates to heaven, he's seen the gates to… well, lots of places (there was one time he glimpsed the entrance to hell, but that wasn't nearly as pleasant). The entrance to the place Jonghui claims to live isn't nearly as fancy.
She extends her hand at him, flashlight in hand, and Bonggu stares at it for a moment.
"Help me hold it," Jonghui says, and then she puts it into his palm.
From her pocket, she digs out a card. She puts it to something on the door, a black box with a blinking red light, and the light turns green. She pushes it open (Bonggu has to admit he's never seen anything of the sort in heaven).
It's warm inside, and brighter. Finally able to see properly, Bonggu looks down at himself. He almost sputters in disbelief at the sight.
His shirt is still white, but it's dirty. It's not the robe seraphims wear anymore and his back feels awkwardly bare without the wings, like some part of him is simply missing. His shoes and pants are painfully mundane and plain, and the reminder that he's stripped of his title comes back full force. More than ever, Bonggu wants to go back.
"Bonggu?" Jonghui lays a hand on his shoulder, and Bonggu is even quicker to shrug it off. She looks a bit hurt for a split second but then she smiles at him again, still bright. "The elevator's over there. The sooner we get back, the better, right?"
"I don't need your help," he grumbles under his breath, though his steps are slow and painful when he tries to walk by himself. Jonghui waits for him, though, her pace matching his. He refuses to look at anything in the elevator (though he's slightly in awe of how it works) and he doesn't meet Jonghui's eyes as she leads him to the door of her apartment.
She lays down her umbrella on the ground and tosses the flashlight away, then takes off her shoes. "I have a spare bedroom," she tells Bonggu, "I guess you're travelling. If you're tired, we can talk the next day."
As little as Bonggu knows about human traditions, something tells him that letting strangers into one's house isn't common practice. And knowing humans, they normally want something in return. What did Jonghui want in return in exchange of the shelter she offered him?
"I'll make tea for you," she's saying, "after I find clothes. My brother isn't coming back for at least two weeks, and I don't think he'll mind that much if you use his clothing—"
"What do you want?" He has no money. No family. No power here on earth. There is nothing he can repay her with— the more she does for him the more nervous he begins to feel.
"What do you mean?" Jonghui turns around slowly, half in the progress of shrugging off her coat. Bonggu realizes he hasn't moved a step from the door ever since he entered.
"What do you want from me?" he repeats, this time more certain that she's looking for something, "because whatever you want in return, I can't give it to you."
Jonghui smiles at him again and Bonggu finds himself hating the smile. He can't even begin to guess what she's thinking because she's always hiding behind the smile, and the more she smiles, the angrier he feels. It is a selfish thought, but it feels wrong that the world still goes on normally even though his own world had been overturned (a couple of times, that is).
"I don't want anything from you," she tells him simply, softly, "you can walk out of here the next morning and I won't ask for anything."
He almost snorts. "That's impossible."
"Then you're going to have to believe the impossible. Take off your shoes and come in, Bonggu."
Bonggu sits at the table stiffly, eying Jonghui. He still doesn't trust her. He's not going to. He's not going to trust anyone. The only thing he's going to do is to do everything he can to go back.
She's given him a fresh change of clothes, and even though the shirt is still white, it's cleaner than the last one and it smells of freshness. One pant leg is rolled up (courtesy of Jonghui) to expose his injured ankle, which has swollen to an angry red. She's tied something around it, something cold, and it numbs his ankle until he can't feel anything anymore. Bonggu keeps his mouth shut about the pain from his wings, but every time he thinks of it, they feel freshly torn off.
Jonghui hands him a cup. "Tea," she tells him, before returning to the kitchen.
The cup is hot to his hands, but not unbearably hot, so Bonggu raises it to his mouth and takes a deep gulp.
He successfully forgets everything else a moment later, because the water is in fact unbearably hot and it scalds his throat and mouth as he attempts to cough it out and swallow it at the same time. Jonghui comes rushing into the kitchen at the sound of his choking.
"Are you okay?" she asks, as if he were able to reply. Bonggu shakes his head, shuddering. He can still feel the scalding liquid burning his throat, and it hurts a lot more than he expected.
He manages to choke out a couple words. "Are you trying to kill me?"
Jonghui stares at him with wide eyes. "Kill you?" she asks, frowning. "Why would I do that…?"
"The beverage. It…"
"Have you never drank tea before? Which part of this planet are you from? The tea won't be made properly if the water isn't boiled, and I didn't really expect you to… take a huge sip out of it."
"Yes, but-"
He's abruptly interrupted (which Bonggu, undoubtedly, finds a little rude. The conscience in his head tells him that he's been way ruder to her, but he brushes it off). Jonghui has a hand pointed at him.
"What?" Bonggu questions, irritated. Maybe he ought to be thankful that this girl is somehow giving him a place to stay, but now he wishes that it could've been someone less cheerful and probing that had found him.
"Are you bleeding? What happened to your back? God, how badly were you injured?" She's slightly pale, and Bonggu tries to glimpse at his back over his shoulder, but he's unable to. He wants her to stop talking so he can sit in peace and silence.
"I'm not God. And I'm not…"
He barely gets to start on the sentence when he remembers his wings again. They had hurt like they'd been freshly cut off— perhaps they were; Bonggu has had them as long as he can remember— but he had thought the pain was something that served as a reminder. Just thinking of them made his chest constrict— was there actually a wound there?
"Is something wrong with my back?"
"Oh my God, there's so much blood. Take off your shirt." The command is so sudden that Bonggu jumps back. That isn't a common practice amongst humans either, he thinks (at least, he hopes).
Something sparks inside of him, even more vigorous than it had been last time. Embarrassment, Bonggu recognizes. "No," he manages out. His face feels warm.
"Please. You just put on that shirt ten minutes ago, and the back is bloody. You're bleeding. I could take you to a hospital, but it's late and we'd have to hail a taxi…" she trails off then, and then scrutinizes him again. "Are you by any chance in a gang, Bonggu?"
For all his life, Bonggu can't remember when he'd had to deal with a wound. They usually healed almost the moment they were inflicted. In fact, he's never experienced physical or mental pain in all his life (and now he's already experienced physical pain three times in the span of less than an hour: his ankle, his wings, and then the scalding hot liquid Jonghui gave him. And possibly the mental pain of watching her smile so much).
"Is it bad?" Bonggu finally asks. He can't think of anything else to say.
"... it is."
Bonggu stares at her for a bit longer, and grudgingly, he lifts his shirt up a bit. Jonghui's polite enough to avoid looking at him, but shuffles behind him so she's staring at his back. His back aches as the muscles flex, and it feels like he's tugging open the wound when he stretches his arms up. Bonggu flinches.
There's silence for a while. Jonghui's voice is barely audible when she speaks. "What happened to you?"
Bonggu flinches again, but he keeps his mouth shut. The truth won't suffice, he thinks, and the only way for me to avoid telling the truth is not speaking at all.
"It's fine if you don't want to answer me, but at least tell me you're not a wanted criminal or in a gang."
"I'm not," Bonggu manages to answer.
Jonghui's footsteps fade, and he sits in the chair unsure of what to do, clutching the white shirt to his chest so only his back is exposed. He can see the stain of red from his blood, and Bonggu remembers the fact that angels have golden blood. Another reminder that he no longer is a seraphim.
"Sit still," a voice behind him instructs.
There's the splashing of water before something warm is pressed against his back. It's gentle, but Bonggu still hisses in pain. He doesn't know how long he's been sitting there when she finally wraps the bandages on, and by then, he's beginning to feel himself gradually relax. The room is warm, and the silence is comforting— despite the pain, he can almost force himself to believe he's elsewhere when he closes his eyes.
Jonghui's voice shatters that illusion.
"I'll get you a new shirt," she says quietly. "Then you probably want to rest. You can use the guest bedroom."
Angels don't sleep. Angels don't get tired. Angels…
It's a repeating train of thought in his head that he can't rid himself of, and he almost snaps at Jonghui again, except this time, he can't think of anything to snap at her for. The only thing Bonggu does is sit in silence as Jonghui's footsteps fade, and while she's gone, he feels acutely insignificant. Bonggu stares at the room around him, and he thinks he feels another emotion.
He's pretty sure it's described as loneliness.
II
Abandonment
When Bonggu wakes up the next morning, there's two things that surprise him.
Firstly, he actuallysleptthe night before. The second thing isn't as pleasant— his whole body aches and he feels oddly uncomfortable. When he pushes himself up from the bed, his vision spins and there's a pounding pain in the back of his head. His mouth is dry, and when he swallows, his throat burns.
The blankets feel uncomfortably hot and Bonggu throws them off his body, although the air feels warm and also it's barely enough to satisfy him. Disoriented, he stumbles to his feet. His ankle burns a little when he puts a little weight on it, but he puts the rest of his weight on his uninjured foot and the pain becomes bearable. When he looks down to examine himself, he's still wearing the same clothes that Jonghui gave him the day before, and his back is the sorest when he stretches. Then everything that happened the day before comes raining down on him, and Bonggu instantly feels angry and bitter.
He's dizzy and uncomfortable when he finally makes his way out of the room, and he wants to snap at Jonghui. He has no idea where he's supposed to go— he is probably going to have to leave soon — and all Bonggu knows is that he needs to get his wings back and get back to heaven as soon as he can. The pain and discomfort muddles his thoughts.
Bonggu tries to think of where to go next but the only thing that he can remember properly is Jonghui's smile. It makes him scowl even harder.
By the time he's in the living room, his legs are shaking and each step seems to tilt him dangerously to the side. Jonghui takes that moment to appear.
She sticks her head out of the kitchen door and the shock is too much for Bonggu. He's unsure ofwhyexactly he feels so weak (it's a horrible feeling, and he's angry at himself for feeling weak), and he's also unsure if it's common within humans, but his legs chose that moment to give away.
"Hey!" Bonggu's head pounds. He feels like he's burning now, and the wound on his back feels like it's on fire. Despite the heat, however, he finds himself shivering.
Jonghui's face comes into view. Bonggu feels positively pathetic lying on the ground unable to get up, but by then, he feels as if he'd rather die than try to stand up again.
"Bonggu?" Her voice is urgent and Bonggu feels a tint of satisfaction that she isn't smiling. She doesn't exactly look as miserable as he feels, but at least she isn't looking like the exactoppositeof what he feels anymore.
Thattrain of thought leaves his mind pretty quickly because Jonghui's face blurs. By now, Bonggu's pretty sure that there's something wrong with him, and it's hard tonotconcentrate on the three sources of pain: his ankle, his shoulder, and finally, the pounding in his head that's getting increasingly loud.
A cold hand rests on his forehead, and before Bonggu can think, he makes a grab for Jonghui's hand because it'scold,comfortably so.He misses, or perhaps she pulls back. He's unsure.
"You have a fever," Jonghui announces, and he blinks sluggishly up at her. "It's probably from staying outside in the rain for so long."
Then she smiles at himagain,and Bonggu draws backwards, as far from her as possible. "I…" His voice sounds rough and incredibly hoarse and his throat strains painfully at the effort to speak.
"Don't worry, I won't tell you to leave. You're sick."
That's not what I was trying to say to youhe tries to repeat, but the words come out muffled, and Jonghui promptly ignores what he has to say and pulls him upwards.
She's stronger than she looks, or perhaps Bonggu's tooweakto tell— but before long, Jonghui has him on his feet and he's leaning against her.
Immediately, Bonggu flinches away from her. "I don't need your help," he hisses, hoping to put as much venom in his voice as possible, though it comes out pathetically weak and small (not to mention it was cracking). "You're ahuman." It's all he can get out.
Jonghui blinks at him, not looking at all insulted as he thought she would be (and Bonggu's positive that Jonghui has diminished a huge chunk of his pride and dignity already). "I think you're getting delirious," is all she says, "Let's go."
Bonggu feel utterly helpless when Jonghui pulls him back to the bedroom. A faint memory resurfaces; about three hundred years ago, he was sent to fight one of the greater demons. He ended up facing three, and even after getting stabbed six times (then again, he couldn't actually feel pain back then) he hadn't needed help. And now, he's unable to do as much as pull away from Jonghui or even speak properly.
She doesn't make any more comments when he shakes away from her grip and climbs back onto the bed. Jonghui stands there unmoving, and Bonggu finally snaps. "What?"
"Blankets." She looks positively confused. "Have you never gotten a fever anymore? If you don't sweat, the fever's going to remain high. I have Advil but it's not going to work as well if you don't use the blankets. I'll make you soup, but…"
Bonggu stares at her and decides not to answer her question because he can't. "It'shot," he states instead. His voice cracks.
"I know it's hot," she replies, "but you're not going to get better if you don't bear with it. I'll make you soup. Andput on the blanket."
Jonghui turns to leave the room then, but there's something in her tone of voice that Bonggu finds hard to ignore. The moment she's out the door, he slowly pulls the blanket over his body.
Bonggu drifts in and out of consciousness and though he tries to force himself to sleep, it's hard to because the so-called fever brings too much discomfort with it. When he finally falls asleep, he's managed to kick the blankets off of half of his body, and he's too exhausted and spent to do anymore. He's unsure of how much time has passed since Jonghui put him back to to bed, though his mind can't differentiate minute from hour anymore.
He dreams for the first time in his life but they seem to be more like memories than dreams. Disoriented, blurry, and it's frightening how Bonggu can't grasp onto them fully. It's like his life as an angel was something that happened in the past, and now he's looking at it through a foggy screen.
Images float by in front of his eyes and he struggles to remember when they happened. His memory of heaven seems to be fading quickly and Bonggu isn't sure if it's caused by his half delirious state or if they really are disappearing. And somehow, the fear that accompanies the unknown is overwhelming.
When Bonggu finally wakes up, he's broken into a cold sweat and he's shivering uncontrollably. His thoughts aren't exactly any more lucid than they were when he was asleep, and his memories seem distant, separated by a translucent sheet, blurry but visible. They're stillthere, but for a weird reason, he can't access them. They're a fair distance away, unreachable, and Bonggu almost feels himself deflate.
He lies on the bed staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his heavy breathing until the door opens. The headache has receded and he doesn't feel half as bad as he did before, and for an unbeknownst reason, there's no tinge of annoyance or anger when he sees Jonghui standing at the door.
"Hi," she says. She smiles again, and Bonggu finds himself getting used to her smile. It's not quite as bothersome as it was in the beginnin. "I brought soup a while ago but you were asleep."
"Okay," he croaks. The wordthanksrises up, but Bonggu swallows it back down. "What's soup?" he asks instead.
"Are you still delirious?"
"No!"
Jonghui eyes him, and mumbles something likedefinitely not Koreanunder her breath. Like always, though, she doesn't question him twice and walks up to him. She's holding a bowl in one hand and a mug of something (which Bonggu eyes suspiciously — he can't help but remember the burning hot liquid she gave him the night before, and then he begins to wonder if it were that exact liquid that had caused his fever).
She hands him the cup first and Bonggu stares down in it. The liquid is clear and the mug itself is cool to the touch when he feels it.
"It's water," Jonghui supplies usefully, "And it's cold. You're not going to burn yourself."
Bonggu takes a sip, and to his relief, itiscold. He downs the whole cup in an instant and the cold water is a relief against his parched throat.
"Soup." Jonghui sets the bowl down by the table, and then she pulls a chair from the side of the room and scooches over to sit beside him.
Bonggu shifts under her gaze as he stares at the bowl. He's unsure ofhowexactly to describe the soup, but it looks unappetizing and he doesn't really want to eat anything. The color makes him shudder and apart from the metal spoon sticking out, there's pieces of things he can't explain. He thinks that he prefers never eating over eating whatever the soup was.
"Chicken noodle soup," she says, though the words don't make much sense to Bonggu, "is good to drink when you have a fever. It's not poisonous or anything and I tasted it before giving it to you. It's not at all that bad."
"Is it hot?" he finally manages get out.
Jonghui frowns. "Well, itiswarm," she begins a bit hesitantly, "but it's cooled off so you're not going to burn yourself like yesterday."
Yesterday— Bonggu never wants to relive yesterday ever again. He picks up the bowl, eyes it dubiously, and holds the spoon awkwardly.
The bowl is warm to his hands and that serves as a warning sign. He repeats his question to Jonghui, who has the nerve to laugh a little before telling him that it's safe to drink once more, dragging her chair even closer. She's watching him so intently that Bonggu's beginning to feel uncomfortable.
He has the spoon raised halfway to his lips when he drops it back into the bowl. "What's the stuff in there?" he questions once again (he does manage to convince himself that he'snotin factscaredto drink — he just doesn'twantto and he's being simply careful, which is never bad thing).
Even though a small part of his mind acknowledges the fact that he's being extremely annoying and Jonghui now has every right to be annoyed with him, Bonggu can't help but feel the haughty feeling again. This time,everypart of his mind acknowledges that the feeling is useless and extremely mean, but Bonggu also chooses to shut out his conscience.
To his surprise, Jonghui doesn't snap at him. She looks a bit bewildered and baffled, like she's more confused by his questions than irritated by them. "There's chicken, there's noodles, there's some vegetables," she tells him, "Why? It's just chicken noodle soup. Don't tell me you've never tasted that."
There's nothing left for him to ask, really, so Bonggu hesitantly brings the spoon to his mouth.
He's never eaten in heaven— he doesn't need to— and he was too exhausted to do so the previous night. But oddly, the soup doesn't taste half as bad as he imagined — in fact, the same part of his mind that acknowledged how annoying he was acknowledges the fact that the soup actually tastedgood.If it hadn't hurt so much to swallow, Bonggu would've…
"How's the soup?"
He looks at her. She's smiling. He looks at the soup, then the spoon in his hands, and chooses his next words as carefully as possible. "It's okay," Bonggu tells her.
By nightfall, his fever is better and Bonggu can walk without feeling dizzy. Still, his whole body aches and when he stumbles into the kitchen, there's an empty, gnawing feeling in his stomach. He feels so miserable that some part of him actually wants Jonghui to smile, because everything is so gloomy that he can't take it anymore.
Jonghui doesn't seem to hear him come up behind her, and she has something open on her lap. It casts a light onto her face and she's pressing keys at a rapid speed, and each time she hits one, it lets out a clicking sound. There's something around her ears, and Bonggu can catch faint sound coming out of them. He's unsure of what she's holding or what it's called (in fact, he's unsure of a lot of things in Jonghui's apartment— but admitting would probably make Jonghui laugh at him again and Bonggu doesn't want to get made fun of again by the girl. His pride and dignity as a seraph angel already feels dented).
As soon as he steps into her line of vision, Jonghui raises her head from the screen she was staring at, before pulling off the things from her ears. She beams at him, and it's too bright. "You look better," she tells him, "I think sleeping did you good."
"Yes," Bonggu agrees awkwardly, "Do I have to go now?"
She looks a bit taken back and Bonggu is unsure of what she's thinking. There's two kinds of people, he thinks: those who hide their feelings behind an emotionless mask and those who hide their feelings behind a smile. Jonghui's definitely the latter. He's unsure what category he falls in, or if he has human feelings at all. Because despite being human, some part of him still rejects that fact and hangs onto his stripped wings, though they're gone.
"I'm not going to force you to leave," Jonghui says, "Not when you're still sick. There's some chicken soup left, so if you're hungry, we can eat dinner. Besides, you don't seem to know much about… Seoul. Korea in general, actually."
"I'm not hungry," Bonggu manages in return, ignoring her last sentence, though his stomach promptly growls the moment after the words leave his mouth.
Jonghui snorts and raises an eyebrow at him. "Not hungry? I'll go heat up the soup and you can eat. And that's final, Bonggu." She's not exactly smiling, but her eyes seem to be smiling at him. Bonggu's not sure if that's better.
There's nothing he can say to argue so Bonggu drags his feet after her into the kitchen and sits down on one of the chairs. He finds himself watching Jonghui, though sometime along that time, she turns to ask him why he's scowling so angrily at her. Bonggu resorts to scowling at the tabletop instead, though he did notice one thing when he was looking at her: she'snotalways smiling. It's the way her lips are shaped; the corners of them tilt upwards very prominently, making it look like she's always smiling, even when she's probably not.
After a while of tracing the patterns on the tabletop, Bonggu turns to stare out the window. It's dark, but the skyline and clouds of Seoul is lit up by the dying light of the sun, turning the ends of them shades of red. The streetlights have been turned on and lights from the buildings glow too. His memory feels faint, however he dimly recalls the last time he visited earth properly might've been two hundred years ago. Time was hard to keep track of as an angel, and with his memories steadily blurring, it is even harder.
He's unsure how much time has passed when Jonghui brings the soup, but she has two bowls instead of one. She sets one in front of him, then sits on the seat across from him with her own bowl.
For once, she's silent and doesn't ask him any questions and Bonggu takes advantage of the quietude to eat his meal. However, the silence doesn't last long and not much time passes when Jonghui drops her spoon and looks up at him. Bonggu already knows that she's going to talk, and when she talks, he's not certain if he can ever shut her up.
"What is it?" he grumbles, before she can speak.
"Let's play a game," she tells him, and Bonggu does a double take at her. "I'll ask you a question and you'll ask me one. No lying."
"That's a boring game."
"Where are you from?"
Bonggu drinks another spoonful of his soup and scowls at Jonghui. She seems to be incapable of shutting up and he's looking forward to going to sleep again because her unstopping chatter is probably going to give him another fever. Her smile was beginning to get enduring just a while ago, but now that she's sitting right across from him and his temperature is rising again, her smile is once again annoying to look at.
"Somewhere far away," he snaps at her. It's the truth, anyways, though it's the limit of what he can say.
She opens her mouth to protest at his answer, then closes it. "Your turn," she says instead.
Bonggu now realizes how many questions he truly has to ask her because he's undeniably curious.Do you live alone? Where are your parents?They all seem too personal and asking them will make him seem like he actuallycares.So Bonggu looks at her, then at his soup, then at her smile, whichstillhasn't disappeared, and then the question comes naturally. "Why are you always smiling? Why are you always happy?" The last part is unintentional, but Bonggu can't help but add it. "Whatis thereto be happy about?"
The look actually drops off her face at his question. It's back up in a split second, though. "That's three questions," Jonghui notes, "And it takes less muscles to smile than to frown. Which you seem to be doing a lot. And there's plenty of things to be thankful about, if you just look closely. There's also plenty of things to mope and be grumpy over but it's better to concentrate on things that make you smile than those that make you frown. You don't seem to be good at doing that, Bonggu. Try to smile. It's not going to do you any harm, and it's better than being doom and gloom all the time."
Bonggu ignores her last sentence. "Butwhy?"
"If you tell me where you're from— like, actually tell me— I'll tell you why."
Is that a challenge?Bonggu frowns at her, then he remembers her words. He thinks that he would rather use more muscles to frown than have to smile like Jonghui every second of the day. "No," he mutters at her, "Whatever."
"Suit yourself. Next question— do you have a place to actually stay in Seoul?"
Bonggu does another double take (a doubledoubletake?) at her and he's more than confused by now. Her questions are odd and far off from what he was expecting her to ask, and frankly, it frustrates him. "What do you mean?"
Jonghui shrugs. "I thought you were a tourist when I first talked to you, but… you're injured badly and it looks like someone actually injured you with a weapon, seeing the cuts on your back. And you also looked like someone had left you to freeze to death in a back alley, so I figured you weren't just any tourist. You say you're not in a gang, but I really can't imagine what could've happened to you to have you show up like that. So… I just want to know what happened to you."
"That's many questions," Bonggu snaps back at her. He notices that his voice is better than it was in the morning, and it doesn't quite strain his throat as much to speak. He feels irritated about the fact that he can't answer anything she asks. "One question, you said that's all you get."
She looks unfazed and meets his gaze calmly. "My only question was the one at the end. What happened to you?"
Bonggu thinks of the events that happened before he had started falling (in fact, he seemed to have spent the past few days falling, and only yesterday had he actually landed). They're oddly fuzzy, and it's hard to try to think of them without his head hurting — in fact, eventryingto think of themwhilsthis head hurting isn't helping to bring back his memories. It's frustrating, fruitless, and if it's anyone's fault, it's probably his own. But Bonggu (and he knows of this— he just refuses to acknowledge it just like he refuses to acknowledge everything else) knows himself well enough to know that when something goes wrong, himself is the last person he ever blames. Especially when the fault is his.
"This is stupid," he hisses at Jonghui, "I don't want to answer the questions."
She's still unmoved. "Ask yours, then."
Bonggu's unsure of how she can be so unperplexed with him, or how she can continue on like they're carrying a happy conversation. He's pretty sure that his annoyance is definitely showing and Jonghui's either too dense to notice it or she's plain ignoring it. So he remains silent.
"I'm giving you a place to stay. The least you could do for me is answer my questions. I'd like to get to know you. So at least cooperate, please. At least tell me your full name."
Is this a threat? Blackmail?No matter how much he's unwilling to admit it, Bongguknowsthat being forced to leave isn't going to be pleasant for him, and as much as he hates it, Jonghui is more or less his only hope. "You said you didn't want anything in return from me yesterday."
"I don't." She finishes her soup, and sets the bowl aside. "I'm not asking anything from you." She pauses again, then smiles at him. "Let's start small, then, if you're unwilling? Three questions per day."
Per day? Does that mean I'll be staying here even longer?Bonggu's unsure if he's relieved by that or scared. He's also unsure of how long, exactly, that he can handle Jonghui. And most of all, he's unsure of when he's going to return to heaven.
"Hm?" she prompts again.
"... one question."
"Two."
"One."
"Two, Bonggu."
Bonggu hesitates for a moment and under Jonghui's gaze his resolve finally crumbles. "Chae Bonggu," he grumbles under his breath. "That's my full name."
Jonghui beams. "Nice to meet you, Chae Bonggu."
Bonggu lies awake at night and stares at the ceiling. The fever seems to have fully receded, though he still feels exhausted and weak. Oddly, he's unable to sleep — perhaps the city noises are too loud to him, or perhaps he simplycan't.Jonghui has gone to bed also, and he thinks that she's probably asleep in the next room. Involuntarily, he reaches over and touches his bandaged back again. The bandages are fresh since Jonghui changed them before she sent him off to rest, but he's unsure if it's his back aching or his heart that's aching.
For once, Bonggu's worried. Unsure. Scared. He feels oddly small in the empty room, and even smaller compared to the world around him. Being a human is painfully vulnerable and some part of him seems to be missing.Perhaps,he thinks to himself,it's my wings. My power. Everything from before.
He lies awake for a while more, trying to recall anything that he can grasp onto about heaven. He tries to think of his life before, but it's impossible, unreachable. The memories slip away when he tries to grasp at them, depriving him of the only comfort he has. There's no one he knows. No one he dares trust. Being alone, Bonggu realizes, is a horrid, horrid feeling.
He was a seraph angel, the highest position there was. And now, a human, he's even lower than the lowest ranking of angels. He feels utterly, wholly abandoned. Cast aside, unwanted.
He's not sure how long it takes for him to fall asleep, but when the dreams come, they're just as turbulent and restless as his memory. And this time, Bonggu's sure that it's his heart that's aching.
Chapter 3
III
Tolerance
Jonghui asks him questions everyday, and they range from where he came from to what kind of tea he prefers (and there are few that Bonggu can answer honestly and even more that he has no ideahowto answer, such as the tea one). By the time he's been staying with her for three and a half days, Bonggu has already picked up on her pattern of asking questions— one in the morning after they have finished breakfast, one at lunch after they finish eating, and finally, one after dinner. He tries to avoid the questions as best as he can, but somehow he can never quite dodge them.
He tries to avoid Jonghui, also by staying in the bedroom she lent him, but seeing her is inevitable because she doesn't seem to work and is mostly always at home. Bonggu doesn't quite trust himself to wander around the house carelessly (especially the one time he was exploring the kitchen when Jonghui had gone shopping, and out of curiosity turned on the stove and forgot to turn it off, which she actually got quite frightened about when she came back) and there's so many things that he isn't sure how to use. The cluelessness makes him mad, but the thought of asking Jonghui how to use the light makes him even madder. Thus Bonggu remains in darkness when night comes and sleeps early, because he can't quite figure out how the lights work.
(And really, he's more or less thankful sometimes that she doesn't mention when he has to leave or if he even has to, but Bonggu doesn't relay that thanks to her.)
One thing he notices about Jonghui is the calendar she keeps next to where she places her laptop. Each day that passes is marked with a red pen, and when Bonggu flips open the calendar, it only goes up to October.
"Why is it that short?" he asks Jonghui, when she comes back the day after he found out about the calendar (and Bonggu thinks that it's probably the first time he willingly started a conversation with Jonghui). "It only goes up to October, and there are still two more months after that. What happened to November and December?"
Just this one time, it's very obvious to Bonggu that she's not smiling— in fact, she looks kind of scared and very sad. "Five months from now may be all I have," she tells Bonggu, and the somberness in her tone is hard to miss. Bonggu doesn't quite understand why she looks that way or why she seems so unlike herself, but he drops the subject. Still, he can't help but glance at the calendar: May 19this the date today. May 18this crossed out with the red pen that lies beside the calendar. Undeniably, Bonggu acknowledges that he is still curious what the calendar is for and why it's so abnormal, but he doesn't ask her anymore.
Jonghui is back and smiling after the incident with the calendar, and Bonggu counts six days that he's been with her. It's tiresome and fruitless to try to avoid her, so Bonggu forces himself to sit through conversations with her (they aren't half as bad as he tells himself they are).
On the eighth day (by then, Bonggu's caught Jonghui turning on and off the lights and he knows how to do so), the doorbell rings and Jonghui opens the door to a stranger.
She looks startled for a moment and Bonggu freezes and stares at the stranger in shock. He's never left the house since he arrived, nor has he seen anyone other than Jonghui, so seeing the other boy at the door is quite odd. And, Bonggu notices, the boy is taller than him, and even taller than Jonghui still. It makes him feel annoyingly insignificant.
"Hamin!" she finally exclaims after a moment of dead silence, "I haven't seen you in a long time. You should phone me if you're going to, uh, visit."
"Since when did I ever phone you for something like that?" he asks, though he's no longer looking at her. Bonggu feels the boy's eyes zero in on him and he unfreezes, crossing his arms and glaring back. Jonghui follows Hamin's gaze and turns to look at him also, and then smiles sheepishly. In his peripheral vision, he can see Jonghui tapping her fingers against her jeans in an odd kind of pattern and she looks extremely nervous.
"This is Chae Bonggu," she says, and Hamin frowns at him. Bonggu mimics the frown. "Bonggu, this is Yu Hamin."
"Chae Bonggu," Hamin repeats incredulously. "Jonghui… why is there a boy at your house? I don't remember Yejun being friends with him. Is he one of the international kids your brother is housing?"
"Uh, Yejun actually doesn't know he's here…"
Hamin steps through the doorframe, and close up, he's even taller. Bonggu raises his chin.
"Then why's he here?"
Jonghui's fingers continue to tap on her legs, now faster, and Bonggu continues to hold Hamin's glare. He remembers Jonghui mentioning something about having a brother, but she also said her brother was approximately the same height as him and Hamin is definitely not the same height. Apart from the similarity in their names, Nam Jonghui and Yu Hamin look nothing alike, either. Hamin's skin is more sun-kissed, features more prominent and all in all, there's no way possible they could be siblings.
"Um, the thing is, last week—"
"He's been here for a week?"
Jonghui raises her hands as if trying to pacify Hamin but he looks positively furious. "See, the thing is, he was injured—"
"You could've sent him to the hospital if it were that bad! He's a man, Jonghui, and you just let him in? Even though he looks really scrawny, you're not going to be able to do anything if he decides to do anything to you—"
"He's a nice person."
Bonggu chokes, and unsuccessfully tries to turn it into a cough.Nice person?He's not sure why Jonghui is even trying to cover for him, because even he admits that he's been anything but nice to her. Not that he actually did anythingbad,either, but still…
"You've known him for a week! There's no saying if he's a nice person or not."
Jonghui crosses her arms, unwavering, and there's an odd air of certainty and stubbornness around her. "If he wanted to, he would've done whatever a long time ago. Anyways, if you're here to argue— gosh, you didn't even bring Haejun— then you can leave. Or buy my groceries for me and make yourself useful."
"What abouthim? What has he done?"
"What about me?" Bonggu can't help but shoot back, "Who are you anyways? Her brother?"
"Her cousin."
Makes more sense.
"So what?" he says instead.
"Stop being childish, you two." There's an air of authority in Jonghui's voice that's hard to miss, and she marches towards the living room. Bonggu's never seen her like this and though it's hard to describe, Jonghui simply appears stronger. He finds himself following her to the living room, and there's an underlying threat that hides behind the calmness in her voice ("Continue being childish,or else") that makes both him and Hamin obey.
The taller boy seems to have given up on arguing with Jonghui, and Bonggu decides that he should hold his own arguments back also.
"You're really not going to do anything bad?" Hamin has calmed down a lot, but there is no doubt that Bonggu still feels uncomfortable sitting at such a close proximity to him on the couch.
"What do you think he'd do?" Jonghui calls from the kitchen. "He's not a bad person!"
Bonggu feels Hamin looking at him, but he refuses to look back and stares at the opposite wall instead. He feels insulted— very— and though he'd rather not here on Hamin expand on 'what he thought he would do (because it's not a pleasant imagery),' he's still offended that Hamin would assume he would do such vile things.Me, a seraphim—well a once-seraphim… insulted by a human, and Jonghui's cousin no less—
"Noona," Hamin finally calls back, "When are you going to tell me why he's actually here? And why you didn't even tell your brother?"
"I'll tell Yejun when I want to. Please don't mention anything to him. And actually, Bonggu refuses to tell me much, so in all honestly, I don't know why he's here either."
"You ask too many questions," Bonggu grumbles back, though Jonghui sticks her head out of the kitchen and seems to have overheard. The rest of her body appears and she walks out with a plate of food.
"You answer too little questions," she shoots back, before setting the plate down in front of Hamin. "Water? And you haven't told me why you're here today at this time. You normally get off on weekdays around six, even with Haejun helping you out. Did you ditch him and come here? He's going to be mad at you again."
It's Hamin's turn to look a bit embarrassed, and he fidgets next to Bonggu (and it's annoying, so Bonggu scooches even further away from the other boy to avoid all contact). "Actually… uh…"
"Yejun sent you to check on me?"
Hamin glances up, looking somewhat guilty, and Bonggu glances at Jonghui's face. She doesn't really look angry, more passive than not, though it's very obvious that she's not smiling. Hamin tousles his hair and it's his turn to look sheepish, as if smiling awkwardly would answer her question. Jonghui seems to take his silence as a reply, and shakes her head and hands him the glass of water. "Well, tell my brother that I'm doing fine. He doesn't need to worry."
Bonggu watches the back and forth with interest, slightly awed how confident Jonghui really is. She's always been patient with him and though she sounds firm with everything she says, she's more… sisterly with Hamin, like an older sibling talking to a younger. And, as he observes them talking, there's a certain air of lightheartedness that makes him feel strangely jealous. Lightheartedness that he can't quite achieve with anyone— lightheartedness he's never even felt. And even with two people beside him, he feels lonely.
"Bonggu?" He doesn't even realize Jonghui's been calling his name a couple of times until Hamin taps him on the shoulder and tells him to pay attention. And after being alone with her for so long, Bonggu can't quite get used to Hamin's presence with them and it's more unpleasant than he wants it to feel.
And even though all three of them are sitting on the couch together, he feels secluded. It's a bitter feeling.
"I'll go to my room," he grumbles at Jonghui. "You keep talking to him." He catches her expression before he turns heel to leave and she looks slightly shocked and confused.
"He has his own room?" Hamin exclaims, though Bonggu promptly tries to block out his voice in his head, along with Jonghui's. He doesn't succeed, but he forces himself not to turn back either.
The moment Bonggu reaches his room, he makes sure to shut the door securely and lock it, before settling down onto the bed and glaring at the opposite wall. There's a picture frame that Jonghui has set up to 'liven up his room' a couple of days ago, a painting of flowers and spring that looks too cheery for any of his moods. He thinks it suits her more than it suits him, but she doesn't take down the picture nor give in to his complaints about it, so Bonggu has given up on trying to ask her to take it away.
Outside the room, he can hear the muffled voices of Hamin and Jonghui still talking, and everything about the two of them makes him feel mad— from the way they talked and the annoying similarity of their names— it all seems downright horrible. The more he thinks about it, the more exasperated he feels.
He's not sure how long it's been when the voices seem to have finally quieted down outside, and he hears the familiar opening and closing sound of the front door.Hamin's gone, and I do hope he won't be coming back anytime soon.
After a moment of contemplating, Bonggu decides to stay in the room instead of going outside to talk to Jonghui again, because he can't quite face her after the encounter with Hamin, nor does he really want to talk to her.
Before he can even think of what to do next, someone taps him on his shoulder.
All his previous instincts as an angel seem to have faded into oblivion because his first response is to let out a shout of surprise, scramble backwards inelegantly on the bed and almost flip off of it in the process of doing so. Just as undignified as before, he whirls around to look at the source of the hand that he'd caught in his peripheral vision just a moment before.
A tall boy stands before him, someone even taller than Hamin. It doesn't take long for the surprise to hit, and Bonggu leaps off the bed and tries to start towards the door, though his limbs refuse to obey him further than two steps. The stranger doesn't appear hostile, but looks on at Bonggu with a slightly mocking smile lingering on the corner of his lips. Bonggu makes a grab for the doorknob, but in a flash, the boy is already standing in front of the door, lips lifting into a full smirk.
It takes a couple moments for the events to register with his brain, and when they do, he's still too dumbstruck to say anything. However, the more he stares, the more familiar the intruder starts to look, until they form two words:Do Eunho.Recognizing the person is even more surprising than the fact that they were actuallytherein the first place.
A single memory resurfaces— Eunho greeting him and following him around like a lost puppy. Eunho hadalwaysfollowed him back then and Bonggu had tried to do anything and everything to throw him off (which included stabbing him with a holy sword once, though it did no good and Eunho wasn't the least bit discouraged). Out of his fellow seraphim, Eunho was the one that Bonggu was irritated with most. And now, he's back, and it's both frightening and maddening at the same time.
"You recognize me," Eunho grins, "Wow."
Nonplussed, Bonggu continues to gape at the boy in front of him, jaw hanging, until Eunho actually reaches over and pushes his mouth shut for him. Bonggu tries to slap Eunho away, but in the blink of an eye he's sidestepped and is holding Bonggu's outstretched arm. Bonggu shakes himself out of Eunho's grasp, but he can't help but continue to stare at the taller boy.
He's wearing the white and gold robe that most seraphim wear, something Bonggu himself was once dressed in. At his hip, a sword is sheathed, the guard showing from the jeweled scabbard. It's seems so painfullyhisthat he can feel himself shaking at the sight — it isn'tfair.
Seeing someone so familiar seems to trigger more memories, and they come flooding back. The more he looks at Eunho, the more questions arise, though there's also a desperate kind of hope that follows too. "Are you here to take me back?" he blurts.
Eunho has the audacity to laugh again, and Bonggu clenches his fists and glares, though he has to raise his chin to meet Eunho's eyes. "If you're not here to take me back, then leave me alone."
"What if I'm here to tell you how to get back?"
Bonggu perks up at those words, but he lowers his eyes at the last moment and stares past Eunho's neck. "What if I told you I already knew?"
Another laugh, and Bonggu is sure that he's ready to attack Eunho any moment then. "I see you've changed. The last time I tried to talk to you, you stabbed me. You're not trying to attack me anymore, so eight days— has it been eight days? Time is hard to keep track ofas an angel—" Bonggu scowls at the provocation, " —must've done you some good."
"It's useless here."
"That attitude isn't going to get you back."
Frustrated, Bonggu snaps his head upwards so he can meet Eunho's eyes, and strangely, they aren't as taunting as his voice seems. One word by one word, he swallows his retort back down. Sucking in a deep breath and counting to ten slowly (like how Jonghui taught him), he attempts to calm himself down before speaking, and it does enough to steady his breathing and his words. "Then what do I do to get back?"
"You change."
The answer doesn't satisfy, and the frustration is overwhelming. This time, he's too perplexed to count to ten or even attempt to calm himself down again.
"I don't even know what I did wrong!"
"For one, you've stabbed me because you were mad."
"You were annoying!"
Eunho tilts his head, and then unfurls his wings from his back. Near blindingly white, they stretch out across the room and all of a sudden, Bonggu feels even smaller than before compared to Eunho. It had never occurred to him before, but standing before Eunho as a mere human, he finally begins to notice the actual height difference between the two of them that he was too blind to notice before.
"You can't change if you don't even acknowledge what you did wrong," Eunho says and his voice is no longer stationary, but a breeze in the wind, drifting through the air, almost an echo. The sword at his waist glows, and his wings are too bright to stare at directly. Eunhohimselfis glowing. "If you don't even realize yourself that you are at fault, then you're not going to ever get back."
He's leaving.
He'sleaving.
Panicking, Bonggu reaches out to make a grab at Eunho, but his hands pass through the white and gold robes and the rest of Eunho dissolves into a blend of white and gold light, leaving Bonggu with even more unanswered questions and others he hadn't even had the chance to ask.
"I'll still check on you," Eunho says, though he's completely gone now. "But for now, think about why you're here. You can only begin to change if you do that." A slight laugh. "Isn't it ironic? You want to get back to being an angel, but the only way for you to do that is to gain humanity."
"Wait!"The words linger on his lips.Don't go. Please. Don't leave me here. I don't know what to do.
But the room is silent once again, and Bonggu is alone.
Bonggu doesn't want to think of why he's on earth.
In fact, he can't seem to do anything he actuallywants.He wants to return; he can't. He wants Eunho to come back and answer more questions; Eunho won't.
What he doesn't want is to talk to Jonghui, but at the moment, someone knocks on his door and Jonghui's voice sounds. "Are you in there?"
Bonggu remains silent, hoping that she will leave him alone, but instead, she rattles the doorknob. It's locked but Jonghui doesn't seem to give in a least bit. "Come out, Bonggu," she calls, "It's almost lunch."
You can't change if you don't even acknowledge what you did wrong.Bonggu stares ahead at the door, and he can almost imagine Jonghui standing before it. She's small, shorter than Eunho and Hamin, shorter thanhimself,and she looks even smaller. She's probably smiling, Bonggu thinks, and he's unsure if he can look on at it throughout the whole mealtime after what just happened with Eunho. Or perhaps it's a smile that he really needs, but he's as unsure as ever.
"Bonggu?"
His mouth is dry when he tries to speak and nothing comes out. He tries again, but it's futile. So instead, Bonggu reaches over and unlocks the door.
He doesn't open it, but Jonghui does. Slowly, she pushes the door open and peeks inside. Her eyes are wide and serious when she looks at him, and for once, Bonggu notes howgenuineshe appears.
"Are you okay? I'm sorry if Hamin offended you. He really didn't mean to, and he's really just a teddy bear when you get to know him."
"It's okay," he replies, quietly. His voice trembles when he thinks of Eunho, and Bonggu feels so homesick that it hurts.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
He glares at her. "I am."
Bonggu holds her gaze until he feels uncomfortable, and he turns his gaze to the ground and bites his lip. Eunho's words are still fresh on his mind and with a shaky breath, he straightens up and opens the door wider. Outside the room, he can smell the scent of something Jonghui's cooking, and he realizes how hungry he is. The exhaust fan is on in the kitchen.
"Let's go eat lunch," he mumbles to her, "I'm hungry."
On the tenth day, the wound on Bonggu's back has ceased to hurt, and his ankle is long healed. Twin scars run down his shoulderblades, a reminder of his wings, but somehow, they don't bother Bonggu as much as they had before, even when he sees them. And as he runs his fingers over the scarred skin, the only thing that they do is serve as a memory that holds less and less pain over his heart each passing day.
He sees Hamin once after, too, and said boy apologizes to him. There's also another boy— Kang Haejun, he remembers, but in his mind, he refers to Kang Haejun asbratinstead— who tagged along with Hamin, and Jonghui introduces him as one of the other staff members of the dance studio that Hamin teaches at.
He spends more time outside his room, and though Jonghui doesn't comment on it, he does see her smiling every time he exits the bedroom to sit on the couch instead. Sometimes, they sit in silence on the couch while Jonghui types away on her laptop and Bonggu takes those moments to think of what Eunho had told him about (though however much he tries, he still can't realize why).
He thinks he glimpses Eunho once, a blur of white and gold outside his window against the night sky, but the moment he turns to look outside, the only things shining are the streetlights and there's no sign of Eunho. Bonggu tells himself that it's all his imagination, along with the wishful thinking that Eunho would be there.
Nothing extremely eventful happens until the eleventh day, which breaks Bonggu's routine (that he was just beginning to get use to) completely.
Jonghui bursts into his room without knocking, which is a first, and Bonggu almost falls off the bed in shock. She seems out of breath, and takes time to breathe in deeping before speaking. Bonggu can't really tell if the look in her eyes is panic or excitement.
"My brother," she says between gasps, "my brother's back."
Chapter 4
IV
Confusion
"Your brother," Bonggu repeats dumbly.
"My brother," Jonghui gasps. She's clutching her shirt around her chest and Bonggu still can't decide whether she's panicking or excited. "Remember? I thought I told you about him. Nam Yejun."
Nam Yejunsounds frightfully similar to Yu Haminand Bonggu doesn't really have the best memories of Yu Hamin (it also sounds like Nam Jonghuiand the first thing that comes to mind when he thinks of the name is smiling, which annoys him). "So… what's wrong with your brother being here?"
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. "He's going to kill us both."
In a flash, Bonggu has jumped to his feet and is alert. "What? Is your brother some kind of murd—"
"He's going to be so mad at me," Jonghui continues to lament, and Bonggu has to admit it's both amusing and confusing seeing her like this. She's normally very calm. "I thought he wasn't coming back until next week and I was going to explain you to him but now he's downstairs and he's going to be so mad at me when he finds you here. Oh my goodness. What am I supposed to do?" By now, she's more or less talking to herself than to him. Bonggu stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do or say (of course, there's always the option of dreading what will happen when he meets Nam Yejun, who sounds terrifying).
"Where… is Yejun right now?" he finally asks, tentatively.
Jonghui glances at her wristwatch. "He should be here in less than three minutes. I hope the elevator jams or something."
"Threeminutes?" He's not sure where the panic comes from, so maybe it's infectious from Jonghui because the aspect of meeting Jonghui's brother in three minutes is actually quite frightening. "But…" Fumbling for words, Bonggu realizes he's too tongue-tied and shocked to speak. "Isn't this your home? Why would he come here?"
"I live with him," she groans, "He's just on business trips a lot. And technically, this is his house."
They stare at each other in complete silence. Bonggu's torn between laughing at how panicked Jonghui looks and figuring outwhyshe looks so panicked when she's normally so composed— something's definitely going to go awry when Yejun returns, judging by how Jonghui's acting, but he can't quite place a finger onwhat.
"Three minutes isn't quite enough time to—"
There's the sound of keys and the front door clicks open. Jonghui's hands fly up to her mouth and her eyes widen comically.
"I'm so screwed," she whispers, "That wasn't even three minutes."
"Jonghui!" someone calls.
"Is this the brother that you said is going to kill us—"
"Hi!" she shrieks back, "Give me a second!"
Bonggu stares at her. "What do I do?" he asks and for some reason, he finds himself whispering also. Yejun seems to be a terrifying person. And in the past couple of days, he's pretty sure that he's had enough ofterrifying.All theterrifyingthat he missed in his years living as an angel seems to have caught up to him.
"Stay here," Jonghui tells him, giving him one last nervous smile and slips out the door. It closes quietly behind her, leaving Bonggu still standing shell-shocked in the middle of the room. He contemplates hiding under the bed or sitting on it and decides with sitting on it in the end because hiding under it looks terribly uncomfortable.
Outside, he can hear muffled voices and he tries to imagine what Yejun looks like. It's a hard image to pinpoint— on one hand, anyone remotelyrelatedto Jonghui can't possibly look scary— but then again, the way Jonghui talks about his brother paints him as someone quite frightening in Bonggu's eyes. He settles with the latter just to prepare himself.
A minute passes. Then two. Bonggu begins counting, but he hasn't even reached ten when the door of his bedroom flies open.
Yejun does not look scary.
There's dead silence between the two of them as Bonggu stares at Nam Yejun, sizing him up. Jonghui comes flying down the hallway, but she stills when she sees them. The tension in the room is so thick that Bonggu fears that something is going to break because of it (and he's pretty sure the thing to break is going to be Jonghui).
Yejun isn't very tall (he faintly recalls Jonghui telling him that her brother was around his height, which now proves true) and he looks fairly slim. He's still wearing a long beige coat that hangs open, a bag in hand as if he never had the time to put his belongings down when he got back. There's a flinty look in his eyes.
"This is Bonggu," Jonghui introduces, tentatively.
"Oh?" Yejun asks, lifting an eyebrow at Bonggu.
Despite Yejun not looking the least bit scary, there's something about him that intimidates Bonggu. Perhaps it's the aura around him, or perhaps it's how skeptical and slightly mad he looks. Hamin hadn't been fully confident when he'd been speaking to him, but Yejun's gaze is downright assertive. That, and the fact that Bonggu can easily tell that he and Jonghui are siblings just by looking at their faces— they have the same lips, the same nose and the same intense way of staring (except the fact that the tilt on the corner of Jonghui's lips makes it look like she were always smiling, but somehow, with Yejun, it is very obvious heisn'tsmiling at the moment).
"I'm Bonggu," he hears himself say robotically. "Hi."
He sees Jonghui cringe in the background.
Yejun looks unimpressed. He doesn't say anything for a very long time, though when he finally does, the words are fast and harsher sounding than than Korean. It's another language Bonggu can't quite place his finger on.
He sees Jonghui giving a nervous, wavering smile in the background as she pushes past her brother and steps into the room. Yejun's still glaring when he puts a hand in front of Jonghui as if to stop her from getting any closer.
"He's been on a business trip in China," Jonghui tells him, but the stutter is obvious in her voice. "That was hi in Mandarin."
Bonggu squints at Yejun. "Does he not speak Korean?"
"No, I said 'you're in idiot' in Mandarin," Yejun asserts. His Korean is fluent, Bonggu realizes. "What are you even doing here?"
"Yejun—"
"You," he grumbles, turning to Jonghui, "Hamin told me everything. You're also an idiot. Gosh, I came back a week early because of this."
She gives him a sheepish smile, fingers tapping against her thighs again. It's a habit that she does when she's nervous, Bonggu has realized in the past eleven days— the more nervous she is, the faster she taps. She's tapping very fast at the moment and not quite meeting Yejun's eyes. If he hadn't been caught up in the middle of it, he would've found it highly amusing. But now that he's Yejun's target, it's not quite as fun.
"And you." Yejun's eyes look positively murderous and Bonggu freezes where he's standing, suddenly afraid to breath. "I'm going tokillyou."
One thing Bonggu has noticed in his time on Earth is that his previous confidence and (somewhat reckless) courage has been draining away steadily. He's sure that Yejun's destroyed whatever of that he has left, because he doesn't have the courage to look the other in the eye fully. Also, Yejun's threat actually soundsrealand Bonggu's unsure of what would happen if hewerekilled. Would he return? Disappear from the world?
Jonghui raises her hands in a pacifying gesture but Yejun pushes her behind him again. However mad he looks, his movements are still gentle with her. "How long have you been here?" he demands to Bonggu, who has recovered slightly from the shock.
"Eleven days," he says as calmly as possible while trying to hold Yejun's gaze. It's unnerving, to say the least and the other's eyes are smouldering. Bonggu's head blanks. He can't remember anything that he faced that he was actually scared of, but Yejun is the first.
"What kind of person takes advantage of a girl living alone? Goddamn it, should I just send you to a homeless shelter or something if you can't find someplace to stay?"
Jonghui draws a hand across her neck and makes a couple wild gestures at him, though Bonggu can't really tell what point she's trying to get across so he continues to stare at Yejun. She continues to mouth something at him until he finally understands the wordsstop talking.He frowns at her.
"I was the one who told him to stay," she tells Yejun, "Seriously, I told you. I found him outside in the alley and he was seriously injured with a twisted ankle and he doesn't seem to have lived in Korea before, because he didn't know much. And it was raining buckets that day and he came down with the cold the other day. I don't see a problem with what I did."
Yejun finally rips his eyes away from Bonggu (and when he does so, Bonggu feels himself finally relaxing slightly) and turns to his sister instead. "You don't just let random strangers into the house," he protests, but his tone is less clipped and softer. "Especially a male. Even if it's someone you know— unless it's Hamin and Haejun or Noah— you can't just let them into the house when you're living there alone!"
"He was bleeding and hurt. Hewouldn'thurt me. Didn't, anyways."
Yejun lets out an exasperated sigh. "How could you tell?"
She crosses her arms stubbornly. Bonggu can't even see a glimpse of the girl who was panicking so much before— sheseemscompletely sure,lookscompletely sure andsoundscompletely sure about what she's talking about. The way she meets Yejun's eyes are confident and unfaltering. They keep the staring contest going for at least a couple more seconds before Yejun finally gives a defeated sigh and looks away, mouth corners pulling downwards. "There's not much I can do," he admits, then under his breath, mutters, "You're too nice for your own good."
"So he can stay?" she asks, eyes brightening.
"Woah, no one said anything about him staying!"
"Yejun," Jonghui says in a pleading voice.
Bonggu's not sure why she's actually standing up for him or remotely helping him, because although he's not as snappy to her these days, he hasn't been the most pleasant company (if he were Jonghui, he would've definitely thrown himself out on the first day) nor has he actually been nice. Eunho hasn't visited him since, so he tells himself that he doesn't know what he's supposed to do (but he kind of has a general idea).
Yejun's resolve seems to crumble, shoulders sagging as he closes his eyes with a look of defeat and exasperation. "I'll deal with this later," he groans, sweeping a hand over his face. Then he glares at Bonggu. "Don't think I'm done with you."
They both leave the room, leaving Bonggu stranded in the middle of the room, still unsure if he was confused, scared or insulted.
Yejun and Bonggu do not get along.
He consistently gives Bonggu disapproving looks when they're in the same room together (which is something Bonggu tries to avoid) and he asks Jonghui (loudly) when Bonggu's going to leave. It makes him both mad and frustrated and annoyed because on one hand, heknowshe has no right to stay forever and on the other hand, it's insulting how lowly Yejun seems to think of him. It's also irritating how nice he is with Jonghui— not that Bonggucaresif Yejun is nice to him or not— but his attitude takes a 180 degree turn whenever Yejun sees him in the room.
And it's only been half a day.
By the time night has fallen, Bonggu is on the verge of attacking Yejun if he makes another comment (or even remotely speaks). The latter is hell bent on painting him as a bad personandmaking Jonghuiseethat he is a bad person. While she smiles and reassures Yejun that he isn't, it doesn't stop Bonggu from wanting to punch Yejun. Dinner, which Jonghui made, is eaten under a blanket of terse silence. Given the choice to sit beside Yejun or sit next to him, Bonggu decides on sitting across from him because the distance between them is longer, but that means he's sitting across from Yejun and the other can stare at him across the table. Every bite of the food he eats seems to get an accusatory look from Yejun, though he doesn't actually speak.
When he finally gets up to leave, Yejun finally snaps.
"If you're going to stay," he says, brusquely, "Then you're going to do the dishes."
Bonggu blinks. "What?"
"Actually, I might as well give you a list of chores. Has my sister been doing all of them?"
Jonghui gives a nervous laugh, poking at her fried rice with one chopstick. "He helps me sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Yejun certainly doesn't look impressed, and Bonggu can't imagine how he'd look if he found out that even thesometimeswas a lie. "If he's going to stay here for free, you might as well give him all the chores."
"He's a guest," Jonghui protests, "And besides, there's not really many chores anyway."
"Guest, my ass. What did you say his name was again?"
"Chae Bonggu," Bonggu gets out through grit teeth. Jonghui eyes him nervously but the situation seems beyond rectifying and she obviously knows it.
"Seriously, Chae, if you're not going to even help then screw off. I don't know who you are or why you're here— Jonghui says she doesn't know much either which is already really fishy so if you're blackmailing her I'll murder you— but if you're going to live atmy house—" Bonggu cringes at the way he stresses the words, "—then you're going to go by my rules. If you don't, I'll be more than happy to send you off."
There's a pause. "Also, that's my shirt you're wearing."
"Yejun!" He glances at Jonghui, surprised at the way she raised her voice. In all eleven days of living with her, Bonggu's never witnessed her shout about or at anybody or anything. She shuts her eyes, frustration evident on her face.
Even Yejun looks somewhat shocked when he turns to look at his sister, eyes wide. Jonghui forces a smile at them both, though it turns out to look more like a grimace. "I'm tired," she mutters, "Please just stop arguing. I'll just do the dishes with Bonggu, alright? Or by myself. Just… don't argue over something so trivial."
"Are you okay?" He actually sounds worried now and Bonggu watches the back and forth with confusion. "Do you want to rest? Did you take your pills?"
She gives him a small smile. "Just stop arguing."
Yejun's still not satisfied. "You're getting enough sleep?" he asks.
"Yes, I am."
"I know you're working on a novel, but don't overspend yourself, okay?"
"Yejun, I'm fine. Just tired."
The way Yejun looks at her is absolutely raw and caring— it's open, honest,there— and something inside of Bonggu seems to jolt. He doesn't want to admit, but perhaps some part of him craves for someone to care for him as much as Yejun seemed to care for his sister.Not that that's possible,Bonggu chides himself,because angels don't have any need for that anyways.
"If you're tired, don't do the dishes," Yejun finally tells her, "I'll do them with Bonggu. Go sleep. I'll get you a cup of hot tea."
She gives him a tired smile before closing her eyes again, this time not as tight as before. "Thanks," she mumbles lightly before getting up and leaving.
Yejun's gaze still lingers even after Jonghui disappears. Something about the scene that just happened makes Bonggu think, because the amount of gentleness in Yejun's voice when he speaks to Jonghui almost seems… careful. Like there is something about her— something big— that he has no idea about.I'm over thinking,he tells himself, though he really doesn't believe his own words.I'm definitely over thinking.
Or perhaps,a smaller voice whispers,perhaps the puzzle pieces just don't fit together yet.
Bonggu ends up having to do the dishes with Yejun, who is less than willing to do it with him (though he also hates doing dishes and thus drags Bonggu along with him to share the pain).
Surprisingly, it's only one plate that Bonggu breaks when he finally gets the hang of it (Yejun doesn't hesitate to chew him out on the one broken plate, claiming it to be his favourite). He watches Yejun carefully and the two of them work side by side, blanketed by awkward silence. Bonggu's unsure if it's unintentional or intentional when Yejun bumps him on the arm 'accidentally', though he's hardly calm enough to care whether or not it was on purpose. Standing next to Yejun makes him infuriated and makes Jonghui seem like an angel compared to her brother. Perhaps she gets annoying, but she's actuallynice.
Not that Yejun is necessarily bad, really — but somehow along the span of eleven days, Bonggu finds himself more and more sensitive to other emotions and feelings. And the dislike and aversion that was very obviously directed at him and is practically radiating off Yejun in waves is very hard to miss.
Neither of them say a word to each other until the last bowl is dried. Only then does Yejun speak.
"Jonghui's asleep," he says in a low tone, "So you might as well tell me what you're doing here."
Bonggu scowls at Yejun. "Didn't she tell you everything already?"
"There's not much she can even say about you. As far as I know, you could be a wanted criminal from some other country. It would explain why you were so injured, at least. And now that she's not here, I'm going to make this clear: I don't approve of you staying here and I hope you can leave as soon as possible. Jonghui's my sister and I don't care if she claims you're no threat or you've done nothing, because you're a stranger— a male, as well— and she's a twenty four year old girl living alone. Sometimes she's just—" For some reason, Yejun's voice seems to break there, "—she's too nice for her own good and that proves a huge problem at times. She always helps people and that makes it easy for others to take advantage of her. I don't trust you right now, but I really don't want to get into an argument with her because of this, especially when she's so persistent on letting you stay. So keep this in mind, Chae Bonggu."
Bonggu narrows his eyes at Yejun. "Why are you so sure I'm a bad person?"
Yejun scrubs a hand over his face in a tired fashion. "I'm exhausted and I really don't want to talk to you right now and I honestly don't believe you genuinely don't understand. My sister found you barely conscious in an alleyway behind our house with your back all cut up and injured. You refuse to say where you're from— there can't be anyway you don'tknow— and you've been staying here for eleven days. That's not common practice. Even if you're not a criminal like you claimed you weren't, there's still something fishy about you."
"If you think I pose a threat to you and Jonghui, why don't you make me leave? Wouldn't you put your own sister's safety in front of what she wants?" Bonggu sits down on one of the chairs, glaring up at Yejun. It obviously frustrates the other that he can't find out where he's from, but it frustrates Bonggu just as much to be unable to tell the truth. Lying isn't an option, but at times, Bonggu finds himself considering it because avoiding the truth can become bothersome (and sometimes, he finds himselfwantingto explain to Jonghui— or maybe he just wants her to stop asking).
Yejun shakes his head slowly. "I can do my best to guarantee Jonghui's safety by staying with her when while you're here, but I'll never be able to protect her from everything. As long as you're not an immediate threat, I won't force you to leaves unless she wants you to."
Bonggu stares at Yejun, who pulls off his yellow rubber gloves and tosses them onto the kitchen counter. He, too, looks exhausted. "Why would you risk it?"
For the first time, Yejun smiles. It's not a welcoming smile like the one Jonghui gives, but a grim, slightly melancholy look. They look similar yet completely different at the same time. "If it's one thing I'd like to give her, it'd be happiness. Sending you away would hurt her, because I can see she actually enjoys being around you. I don't know what the hell she finds likeable about you, but whatever it is, you better prove yourself trustworthy."
Isn't it ironic? You want to get back to being an angel, but the only way for you to do that is to gain humanity.For the first time in a couple of days, Eunho's words come back to Bonggu.What,he wonders,does he mean by humanity?
Without another word, Yejun turns to leave and time settles at a standstill around Bonggu. Emotions are whirring uncontrollably inside of him and for once, he can't even define a single one.
Chapter 5
V
Warmth
Bonggu sleeps fitfully that night, and he blames it on Yejun.
He tells himself it's because Yejun's presence unnerves him, but as he stares at the ceiling, it's not Yejun's presence that unnerves him but actually Yejun's words that really keep him awake.
It's odd,Bonggu muses to himself,how he said it.He can recall the exact words and the more he repeats it to himself in his head, the more it confuses him. Refusing to send him away just because his presence makes Jonghuihappyseems to be a ridiculous kind of excuse. Placing someone's temporary happiness over long term well-being (not that he's a bad person, nor does he actually want to be sent away) is also ridiculous. The more he thinks about it, the less it makes sense until he finally confuses himself to sleep, though the only thing that greets him are fragmented, nonsensical memories.
When he finally jolts awake, he's broken out in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. The darkness in the room is suffocating and he fumbles to turn on the bedside lamp.
Bonggu leans against the headboard for a while, trying to calm his stuttering heart. He's unsure of why he feels so strangely terrified, but whatever the reason, he wants the feeling gone as soon as possible.
Conveniently, someone knocks on his door, and subsequently, Jonghui's voice sounds. "Are you awake?" she calls quietly.
On any other occasion, Bonggu might've ignored her or pretended to go back to sleep, because he still tries to steer clear of Jonghui's presence if he can. It's not that part of his mind that answers, however, but the part that speaks before he can think and that contains his true feelings and wants.
"Yeah," he calls back. His throat is parched when he speaks, and the words are hard to get out.
The door creaks slightly as it's opened and Jonghui sticks her head in. The light from the hallway illuminates her, softly, and she smiles at him. "I thought I'd take you outside for once," she tells him, "You know, you've actually been cramped in here for eleven days." She lets out a light, slightly awkward laugh, and it resonates through the silence. Something about her laughter makes Bonggu feel better. "I was honestly busy, but I should at least take you around Seoul, now that I think of it. We can tour it together today."
"Tour… Seoul?" The idea's never occurred to Bonggu, and frankly, it sounds a bit intimidating. Here's never toured anywhere or cared enough to check the places on earth before and Jonghui's offer is also extremely out of the blue.
"Mmhm. I figured that Yejun probably gave you an earful last night, but I was really tired and I didn't want to argue with him over sleeping. I'll leave him a note and we can have breakfast outside too." Another blinding smile. "Sound like a plan?"
The way Jonghui stares at him was intense, almost like she's looking for something else other than a simple yes. It's hard to think when it's so early in the morning, but he remembers Yejun mentioning something about suspecting him to be a wanted criminal. It takes a while for it to click, though. "I'm not a fugitive," he says slowly, trying to recall everything Yejun blamed him to be, "nor am I in a gang. So taking me outside isn't going to prove anything."
Jonghui appears unfazed. "It's a bonus that you're not," she replies, cheerily, "but I still think we should go. Unless you don't want to."
Bonggu feels scrutinized under her gaze. She obviously still doesn't believe him but he doesn't really want to spend the whole day dragged around Seoul by Jonghui to prove a point that's useless to him. But then again, he's never actually done anythingfunbeing cramped up in the apartment, and perhaps… it would be fun touring Seoul with Jonghui.
"Seriously, Bonggu," she says before he can protest, "Yejun's going to continue to chew you out if you stay here at home. Give him a day or so to cool off or you'll both be sullen and angry at the end of the day."
"Well…" The prospect of being away from Yejun is tempting, because spending a day in the same house as Yejun is almost unspeakably scary. "I…"
"Great. Get dressed, grab a coat— get one of my brother's— and we'll leave!"
Bonggu doesn't even have time to protest when the door shuts again and for some reason, he does as Jonghui says. He rejects it over and over when he pulls on jeans and a shirt, but he reallydoeskind of want to go with Jonghui. Maybe it's the cheerful way she smiles, or the encouragement in her voice, or maybe in the end, it's the prospect of not having to spend the whole day in the same building as Yejun. He decides on the last option.
It's very early when they leave and the air has a crisp feel to it. To Bonggu, who hasn't stepped out in almost two weeks, the feeling is overwhelmingly nice. He takes a deep breath in and thinks that it wasn't such a terrible idea to go with Jonghui.
It's a bit chilly, but the coat she gave him (it's Yejun's, and Bonggu's less than happy to wear it but she really leaves him with no choice, so he accepts the coat) is warm and soon, they're both holding cups of warm drinks and Bonggu is carefully concentrating on not burning himself while Jonghui blows on hers. They sit on a bench, facing the sun, which is beginning to rise. From faraway, Bonggu can hear the noises of the cars and traffic, but the park they're currently in is secluded from the noise.
Jonghui takes a sip of her drink. "Where do you want to go? We have to eat breakfast in a bit. It's almost seven thirty."
Bonggu shrugs, though nonchalance isn't easy to fake. "I don't really care," he replies, but his attention isn't on what Jonghui's saying anymore, but the sky.
He's never really bothered to watch sunrises and he can faintly recall seeing a couple when he was still an angel, but back then, he hadn't really cared or felt any appreciation for them. Now, sitting on the bench, feeling strangely small in the midst of the empty park with Jonghui, he sees the sunrise clearly for the first time.
Mutely, he marvels at the colors the clouds are dyed as the first rays of the sun begin to peak from the horizon. It's a majestic sight, and mentally, he makes a note to himself to watch to sunrise more (and perhaps to even go outside more).
"I like sunrises," Jonghui says quietly. "A lot of people say sunrises and sunsets are similar, but there's a huge difference between them."
Bonggu squints at her. He falls into the category ofa lot of people,because he himself can't really find many differences between the two. They appear the same in the memory. "There isn't much of a difference," he notes.
"Sunrises get brighter," she explains as if he had asked her to, "While at nighttime, the sky gets darker when it's a sunset. While a sunrise leads to daytime, a sunset leads to nighttime."
Bonggu shakes his head. "Is it bad to get darker?"
"Don't you wish for the day more?"
He shrugs again. Her questions seem to hold an odd kind of complexity behind them, yet he can answer them with the simplest of answers. "Nighttime is for rest. There's nothing I find bad about nighttime. The absence of light isn't a bad thing, either. It's like the absence of good won't always equal evil."
Jonghui looks taken back for a moment, but she doesn't question his answer. "Let's go get food," she says instead. "I know a good tteokbokki stall around here."
Bonggu finds out that he can't eat spicy food.
He also finds out that spicy food does not go well with hot drinks either.
There aren't many people around them, though there's another couple sitting at one of the tables talking quietly with each other. Jonghui buys a plate of food and gives him a pair of chopsticks to eat with, which Bonggu does.
It tastesgood(he still likes Jonghui's cooking more, though he won't ever tell her that) but the moment he eats two of them, his mouth starts to burn.
A moment later, the pain is full-blown and unbearable and he's reached for his cup of warm coffee to sooth the pain on his tongue. Which doesn't even prove useful because the hot liquid just intensifies the burn.
Jonghui looks perfectly fine when she looks up to meet his eyes, and her own eyes widen in surprise.
"Can you not eat spicy food?" she asks (or at least, Bongguthinksthat's what she said— he can't really tell because her mouth is full and she has covered her mouth with a hand and that muffles her voice even more), "I'm sorry! You've never been here before and I thought you'd like—"
"Water," Bonggu manages to croak.
She hurries to the vendor and a moment (which feels like eternity to Bonggu) later she comes back with a plastic cup full of water. Bonggu snatches it from her and downs the whole cup. When he finally finishes, he manages to choke out, "Are you trying tokillmeagain?"
There's still the slight feeling of uncomfortableness in the back of his mouth from eating the tteokbokki, but the feeling is muted by the water and Bonggu blinks repeatedly and tries to rid himself of his watering eyes. Jonghui let's out a nervous laugh, pulling the plate closer towards her and spearing one piece of it with a chopstick. "Now we know you can't eat spicy food," she notes meekly, "Do you want to get something else for breakfast?"
They end up lining up at a bakery and leaving with a brown bag full of garlic breadsticks. Jonghui has to assure Bonggu twice that they aren't spicy, and he has to examine the breadstick thoroughly before daring to bite into it.
They end up busing to where they want to go (Jonghui shows him her plans and they end up going to Changdeokgung first). Jonghui explains their destination to him; it's one out of the five palaces built in the Joseon era. When she begins to talk about the Joseon era and its kings, Bonggu zones out and finds himself lost in his thought. In the years 1400-1900… he hadn't measured time like humans had when he was an angel, but he remembers roughly that he'd only visited earth once in that span of time. Faintly, he recalls that he had once spent over fifty years fighting one of the greater dragons, though the memory is vague (and he can't quite remember if it had been fifty years or sixty years).
They bus for a while longer, but soon, Jonghui stands up and drags him off the bus. Bonggu feels a bit lost tagging behind her as she buys tickets for both of them, but he soon forgets much of his confusion when they finally enter the palace grounds.
It's a grand place. Perhaps his sense of beauty has been distorted from his time on earth and his faulty memory, but whatever it is, Bonggu can't help but feel awed looking around himself, and though it's not the grandest place he's seen, he's still amazed.
"Yejun brought me here when I was twelve," she chimes, "I haven't been here for a while. It's very pretty in springtime since all the trees are blooming. And since it's a weekday, there's not many people around either."
They walk around the palace gardens for a while before entering one of the palace buildings. The structure and architectural design is old, though the colors are still bright. They past countless more displays and countless more rooms until Jonghui finally calls for a break. Bonggu's not the least bit tired, but she's out of breath and she sags against the bench, looking as if the tiny bit of walking they did was already too much exertion.
"I guess you're not some wanted criminal," Jonghui laughs, pulling her legs onto the bench they're sitting. Her breathing is still unsteady. "You don't seem at all nervous outside."
He scowls at her. "You and your brother never believed me. Is this good enough now?"
"Quite," she smiles, "What do you think of Seoul so far?"
"This place doesn't determine all of Seoul. I don't know. Outside on the streets is annoying and loud."
Jonghui shakes her head, but doesn't argue with him. They sit in silence and Bonggu listens to her breathing slowly steady out. He wants to ask her if she's going to keep going anytime soon, but the exhaustion on her face from before somehow keeps him from speaking. When he does open his mouth to speak, it's Jonghui that speaks first. "Does your family know you're in Seoul?"
Taken back by the question, Bonggu just stares at her.
"Don't mean to pry," she adds quickly, "Just wondering. If your family knows where you are. You don't seem to have a phone or even go near the internet, so…Besides, you must have got heresomehow,right?"
Bonggu shakes his head. He doesn'thavea family so to speak of, nor has he ever even hadfriendsthat cared for him. "You?" he asks back, in order to avoid the question.
She doesn't probe any longer about him, to his relief. Though she and Yejun are siblings, there's a very obvious difference in their personality. Jonghui's the kind of person who seems to drop something when it's obvious the other doesn't want to talk about it (or at least, sometimes) but Yejun's basically the opposite. Bonggu pointedly thinks that he likes Jonghui a lot more than her brother. "My parents are divorced," she tells him, and though she tries to cover it, the faint tremor in her voice isn't gone unnoticed, "I haven't seen my dad for over fifteen years. I don't even know where he is right now."
Bonggu flinches. "Oh," he says, suddenly feeling a lot more uncomfortable than before. Then, in an even lower voice, he mutters, "I'm sorry." Saying sorry for something that doesn't even have anything to do with him requires pride, but for some odd reason, Bonggu finds himself feeling better after hedoesapologize.
"It's really nothing. I don't remember much of my dad anyways, and my mom and Yejun were… always there when I grew up." It doesn'tlooklike it was nothing, but she covers it with another smile. However, the way she taps her fingers against her legs is something she doesn't realize and doesn't hide.
Silence blankets them yet again and Bonggu struggles to find something appropriate to say. "Then how come you're always so happy?" is the first thing that comes out. It takes him another moment to realize that'snotan appropriate thing to say, but it's too late to take it back.
Jonghui lets her legs dangle off the bench, then shrugs slightly. "It makes people around me happier and myself happier. Why dwell on something that hurts you when you have so many other things you can be thankful about?"
Bonggu's not sure he understands what she's talking about, or perhaps he doesn'twantto understand. "The wounds on my back," he says, "If you had never treated them, they wouldn't have healed properly. If you get hurt and refuse to acknowledge it, then wouldn't it never get better?" He shakes his head. "Whatever. Let's just go. I want to see the gardens."
He stands up and doesn't look back at Jonghui. Her footsteps behind his tells him that she has followed him also.
It's twilight when Bonggu and Jonghui finally leave Namsan Park and board the bus again. They settle for the nearest restaurant, and though he's hungry, Bonggu can feel his head still spinning from the exhilaration of the day. An awful lot has happened, more than he can stomach, and oddly, he feels happy. He's tempted to smile back at Jonghui every time she smiles athim,but Bonggu shoves down the urge, slightly angry. If he returned every smile from her, then he'd never be able to stop smiling.
They end up in an Japanese restaurant for some reason. Bonggu can't quite fathom why they're eating Japanese food when they're in Korea, but he's hungry and he doesn't bother complaining because the food looks good anyways.
There's not many people in the restaurant and he and Jonghui are seated far in the corner. She hands him the menu then excuses herself to the washroom, so Bonggu peers down at the pictures of food by himself. He forgets about actually ordering something (he wasn't quite sure what Jonghui had meant by "find something you want to order" because he's never been in a restaurant before and he's not sure what to do with her gone) and flips through the menu and looks at the pictures instead without actually reading out the names of the dishes. Bonggu's unsure of how long has passed when somebody taps him on the shoulder.
"Jonghui?" he asks, turning around, before he remembers that the restroom is in front of him and she couldn't have come up behind him.
Bonggu nearly screams at the sight of Eunho. What's worse, the said boy (or angel, whatever) isn't wearing his robe anymore — what evenishe wearing? Bonggu doesn't know, nor does hewantto — he has on a hideous gold jacket and a white shirt and white pants. Even though he's only worn Yejun's jeans and shirts the past few days, he can tell that Eunho's attire is absolutely horrifying.
"What are you doing here?" he demands.
"I'm here to check on you. Do you like my outfit?"
Bonggu shrinks into his seat. "I don't want to be seen with you."
Eunho twists his mouth into a frown. "They can't see me," he admits, "But what's wrong with what I'm wearing? I thought I'd keep the colors but go for something more human."
"Please, no." Bonggu shudders, giving the gold jacket another side glance. It's too bright for his eyes.
Eunho brushes past his and sits down in the chair next to his, seemingly have disregarded or ignored everything negative Bonggu has pointed out about his outfit. He peers over Bonggu's shoulder, glancing at the menu in his hands.
"I don't want to flip pages because I'm invisible to everyone else and it's going to be weird if the pages are flipped, so you can flip the pages for both of us, okay? This food looks good."
Bonggu squints at Eunho. "No one else can see you? Thank goodness."
"Hey, stop it!"
He shakes his head at Eunho, but turns his attention back to the menu and the page he was on before he was interrupted. "Why are you talking to me here?" he grumbles, "I'm eating dinner outside and you want to show up now?"
"Hey, be grateful!"
At that moment, he catches Jonghui in his peripheral vision. She sits down from the chair across his, reaching over and grabbing her own menu, smiling and obviously taking no notice of Eunho's presence. "Have you decided on anything?"
"Be nice," Eunho whispers in his ear, and if it weren't for Jonghui, Bonggu would've brought his menu over Eunho's head.
"No," he tells her, hands trembling at the urge to at least shove Eunho.
"Tell me if you do," she says, turning to her own.
Eunho sets his chin on Bonggu's shoulder, and Bonggu wonders what Jonghui would think if he grabbed his tea and dumped it's contents on Eunho. The thought is slightly amusing because there's a lot of different variables (such as if the tea would actually fall onto Eunho or go pass him) but he keeps a tight grasp on what's left on his self control and tries to ignore Eunho whispering in his ear.
"Get this one," he suggests, stretching a hand over to point at something on the menu. "It looks good."
"It's spicy," Bonggu says aloud, and Jonghui looks up at him, eyes wide.
"Sorry?"
Shaking his head, Bonggu turns back to his menu, feeling embarrassed. He tries to ignore Eunho's laughter beside him ("Seriously? You can't eat spicy food?"), but he feels offended and insulted and part of him is tempted to order something spicyjustto prove Eunho wrong. He then thinks back to his experience with the tteokbokki and decides otherwise.
After a little while later, when both he and Jonghui have ordered, Eunho seems to give up. He stands up, frowning. "You're obviously not thankful I actually took time to see you," he complains (As if I could talk to you right now even if I wanted to,Bonggu thinks), "At least you're getting used to earth. You look pretty happy."
If it weren't for Jonghui, Bonggu would've replied.Happy? He certainly doesn't feel happy, whatever happiness is supposed to feel like. Perhaps he's gotten used to what he has and everything isn't asterribleas it was in the beginning, buthappy? He doesn't think that's anything he's going to feel when he's on earth.I'm not,he mentally says to Eunho.
Bonggu's last glimpse of Eunho's face is serious. The taller boy is staring intently, though it's directed at Jonghui, not him. A shadow passes through his face. "Be nice to her," Eunho says, voice quieter than before. "She's a good person."
Bonggu continues to stare at Eunho until the other has disappeared and Jonghui asks him what he's looking at. He's too confused to say anything, but for some reason, when she smiles at him, slowly, he finds himself returning the smile. It doesn't cross his mind until a while later that it's the first time he's genuinely returned the smile, and strangely, there's a comfortable feeling of warmth that blossoms through his chest when he smiles.
(Perhaps,Bonggu thinks,perhaps I could smile a bit more sometimes. It wasn't going to hurt to return a smile, anyway.)
Chapter 6
VI
Uncertainty
Days pass terribly quickly, and that's one thing Bonggu learns on earth. Especially with the fact that humans have limited days. Centuries could pass in a blink of an eye as an angel and seem like no time at all, but the full two weeks that he's been on earth seemed like, to Bonggu, a huge amount of time that had flown by too quickly.
Nothing really changes day by day, not that he can notice. But when he looks back to the first day, so many things are different. So many that it's almost frightening.
And Bonggu doesn't want to dwell on the frightening, so he chooses not to dwell on it.
Shouldn't I want time to pass quickly?he thinks to himself. Yejun's away and Jonghui has gone shopping.Then I can go back sooner.
But do I really want to go back?
Being unsure is one thing that terrifies Bonggu to no end. Being unsure of tomorrow, unsure of the people around him, being unsure ofhimself—it makes him feel out of control, and control has been one huge thing he's been lacking since being on earth. Sometimes he forgets, but when he thinks back on the problem, it makes him frustrated and angry. It's been two weeks and Bonggu still can't comprehend what Eunho meant by "gain humanity".
The door creaks open and Bonggu shoots up from the couch. He peeks around the corner to look at Jonghui, who's carrying at least four plastic bags in her hand, looking very much as if she is going to collapse any moment under the weight. Reason unbeknownst to himself, Bonggu shuffles over to the door and extends a hand to her.
Jonghui looks at him with wide eyes, obviously surprised that he's offering help. Bonggu huffs and grabs two of the plastic bags from her before she says anything.
They're not very heavy, he notes, but for some reason, she looks as if it is too much to carry. "What are these for?" he asks.
Jonghui beams at him. "Thanks," she grins, "They were getting a bit heavy."
Two bags aren't heavy, and Bonggu can't see why adding two more would make the burden unbearable. Still, Jonghui's smaller than him so he shrugs it off and takes the bags to the kitchen. "Are you going to tell me what they're for?" he questions again.
"Oh, right." Jonghui, in turn, sets her own two bags onto the counter. "Hamin and Noah are coming over for dinner tonight and Yejun can't cook."
"Hamin and Yejun," Bonggu echoes. "Who's Noah?"
"My other cousin," Jonghui explains, cheerfully. "He's quite the angel."
I'm the real angel,Bonggu thinks in his mind, and though he bites back the words, it's hard to keep himself from interjecting. He can't quite imagine how Noah would be an angel, especially after meeting Hamin and Yejun, who are both far from angels. "Is Haejun coming?" he asks.
"You're asking a lot of questions," Jonghui notes, beginning to take her groceries out of her bag. She opens the fridge and puts the carton of milk into the side shelf. "And no, I don't think Haejun's coming. Apparently his roommate gets mad if they don't eat dinner together."
The name sounds foreign, so Bonggu brushes it off to forget. He also tries to hide his ecstasy that Haejun won't be there. He sits down on one of the wooden stools, watching as Jonghui puts things in their respective drawers, rearranging items in the refrigerator to fit and make space for others. Her movements are quick and precise, like she's been used to doing it for a while. The clock on the oven reads 11:11, and from previous experiences, Yejun normally comes home at around four in the afternoon. Being in the same house as Jonghui for days is better than being in the same house as Yejun for an hour, because regardless of how cheerful Jonghui is, she's decent company.
When Jonghui finishes putting away groceries, she joins him at the table, squinting out the window. The skies of Seoul are grey per usual, but this time, it seems to be because of the storm clouds rolling in. Bonggu can almost feel the unreleased static in the air, reading the crack and break. The skies of Seoul are definitely something unique, he thinks. They're not beautiful (or at least, not much of the time), but the weather patterns are complex and there is something oddly mystifying and majestic about the sky itself that makes Bonggu unable to stop staring. Perhaps it's the fact that it's so big. Perhaps it's because he can never see the end of it, no matter how much he stares. There's a strange sort of comfort, Bonggu finds, in that endlessness.
"The skies are very mundane here," Jonghui notes, letting out a slight laugh. "Seoul doesn't have much sunny days. But still…it's pretty. I think it'll rain today."
Bonggu hums in reply. It had rained the day before, and he'd watched as Yejun complained about the rain while Jonghui gave him a raincoat and umbrella. Unlike her brother, she seems to like the rain more. There's a slight smile on her face as she peers out the window, and the weather proves true to her words because a moment later, the first droplets and splattering against the window pane.
"What do you want for lunch?" Jonghui asks, "I can whip up a quick stir fry."
Noodles are, admittedly, Bonggu's favourite dish out of all of the ones Jonghui's made, so he doesn't make an objection. Noodle soup, fried… anythingnoodleseems to work with him (unless it is spicy). "Stir fry is okay," he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but he sounds more excited than nonchalant. Dismayed, he opens his mouth to add something but Jonghui has already chimed a happy "okay!"before rushing to the kitchen. Bonggu snaps his mouth shut.
As Jonghui cooks lunch, Bonggu continues to stare outside. There's not much he reallydoes— Jonghui taking to tour Seoul was probably the first memorable thing he's done— and he can't think of anything else that he'd genuinely want to do. Yejun keeps him busy when he's home by giving him all sorts of chores, but the huge portion of the day when Yejunisn'thome is a time that Bonggu spends counting the moments as they ticked by. Those were the times that time itself seemed to be running too slow. He wonders how it's possible— fourteen days manages to pass in a blink of an eye, but somehow, minutes could seem like eternity.
Earth is odd, Bonggu concludes.But if time ran quickly, that was a good thing, right?he thinks,I just… I just want to get back… right?
"Do you ever get bored?" Jonghui suddenly asks.
I want time to run faster, right? So I can go back?
"No," Bonggu grumbles, sounding more irritated than he originally intended. It's not Jonghui he's irritated with, but himself. "I don't."
"Well, I do have books in my room if you want to read them," she says. "Tell me if you're ever bored."
"I'm bored," Bonggu tells Jonghui.
"What's that? I can't hear you."
"I'm bored," he grits out.
She smiles brightly. "Ah. Want the books now?"
"What else?" he demands, and she has the nerve to look amused at how uncomfortable he is. "Just give me the books."
It's ridiculous, Bonggu thinks— before Jonghui mentioned it, he had been perfectly content with staring out the window and watching the raindrops drip down the glass pane— and now he feels bored. Then he remembers something Eunho had said, and then, under his breath, mutters, "Please."
She looks taken back. "You learned manners?"
Bonggu's fuming inwardly. Jonghui's obviously making fun of him, and he hates being made fun of. Still, it's not exactlytaunting— more liketeasing.That's better than taunting, but he doesn't like feeling humiliated. "I've always known manners," he tells her, "I just didn't find any reason to use them."
"And why have you found the reason now?"
"Because I want the stupid books."
Jonghuismilesa lot, but she doesn't actuallylaughthat often. But this time, she does laugh, and it's a cheery sound. And perhaps he's disillusioned and confused, but there seems to be some sort of hidden melancholy and regret in her voice, even though she'slaughing. It's something that Bonggu can't quite grasp because there's no reason she should besadwhen she'shappy,so he tells himself to forget it.
"Fine," she says. "Wait here. I'll bring you a couple to read."
Bonggu makes a face at her retreating figure, but sits back down onto the couch and waits for her to return.
A couple moments later, Jonghui returns with a small stack of books. She drops them on the tea table in front of him, then sits down on the couch next to him.
"The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane," she says, placing the first book in his lap. Bonggu barely manages to glimpse the cover image, in which he sees a rabbit, before it's covered by the next book. "The Alchemist," she continues. "The Giving Tree."
Bonggu stares at the three books. The one at the top,The Giving Tree,looks very short, and the drawing on the cover is simplistic. "These three?" he asks.
"I have more books," Jonghui says, "But I think that you'd like these." She draws outThe Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulanefrom the bottom of the pile and holds it out for Bonggu to see. "This one especially."
"They're children books," Bonggu repeats, dumbfounded. "At least, one of them are. I… can read."
"Would you rather read Lord of the Rings?" she asks dryly, though Bonggu doesn't understand why her tone of voice is like that. "But really, do you really think children books are only for children?"
"Yes," he replies.
"No," Jonghui interjects. "No, they're not, and you can learn a whole lot from them. But if you're really against reading children books, then read The Alchemist. It's good and pretty complicated."
The cover looks mundane, so in the end, Bonggu settles withThe Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulanesolely because there's picturesandit's not exactly a children's book.
Jonghui returns to the kitchen to finish making dinner, and Bonggu curls up on the couch and loses himself in the world of a china rabbit, who was lost but somehow found his way back home again.
"Bonggu," someone says, and he tries to shy away from the sound. "Bonggu, wake up."
Something is lifted off his face and Bonggu bolts upright, forehead bumping against Jonghui's in a painful manner. "Ouch," he shrieks, rubbing his head and blinking at her, disorientated, "What was that? Why…?"
Her own hand has moved to her forehead and she's clutching it too. "Your head is hard," Jonghui grumbles. "That hurt."
"And it didn't hurt me?" Bonggu's voice is hoarse when he tries to talk, like how it sounds in the morning when he wakes up. He blinks, disoriented. "What are you doing?"
Jonghui holds up the book to see, which Bonggu hadn't noticed in her other hand. She has an apron tied around her waist and her hair back in a bun, and when she lowers her hand, Bonggu sees one earbud in her ear and the other one dangling limply. The book in her hand is the one that he'd been reading for hours and oddly, open to the page he last remembered looking at. Bonggu realizes that he drifted off somehow and fell asleep on the couch (and the book must've fallen on his face in the process).
"You know," Jonghui tells him as Bonggu struggles to sit up, "you don't look as angry when you sleep."
"How do you know?" He scowls at her, then remembers what she had just said about being angry. Bonggu tries to ease the scowl from his face. "I had the book on the face, so you couldn't have seen me."
"Exactly why you didn't look angry," she replies quickly, looking away. Bonggu frowns, but drops the subject. Jonghui taps her leg and clears her throat in a nervous manner. "Anyways…Yejun texted me and said he's coming back with Hamin and Noah in a couple minutes and you've been sleeping on the couch for a while, so I thought that you should wake up. You know, since we're having company and all."
"Oh? How long has passed when—"
At that moment, the doorbell rings. Bonggu flinches, but he's somehow closer to the edge of the couch than he originally thought because a split second later, he's fallen off the couch and has hit the ground painfully.
"Ow," he hisses and Jonghui casts him a look of pity. She extends a hand to him and he takes it.
He's obviously a lot heavier than Jonghui is, but Bonggu doesn't really expect her to topple over when he tries to pull himself up. Perhaps he has exerted too much strength, but in his memory, Jonghui isn'tthatweak. Still, the loss of her grip pulling him up sends him hitting the floor again, but this time, he accidentally pulls Jonghui down with him. She topples over with a yelp of surprise.
She's light, but for some reason, she breaks the fall with her arms, which hit him square in the chest. In an instance, all the air is knocked out of Bonggu and he lays on the ground, winded and in pain. It's impossible to breath for at least ten seconds straight, and when he finally does, he's gasping for breath and Jonghui is struggling to stand up. The doorbell sounds again, before he Bonggu faintly hears muffled voices and the lock clicks open.
Jonghui pulls herself up, but somehow, an earbud has tangled itself with the zipper of the sweater he's wearing, and the moment she stands up slightly, she's yanked down again. Bonggu tries to roll away, but his chest is burning from where she has landed on and he's still having trouble breathing.
Yejun's the one who manages to break them apart, but it's far from pleasant.
He's the first person who walks into the living room and sees them, and the keys in his hand drop as does his jaw. Bonggu can barely breathe, much less speak, so Jonghui does the speaking. It doesn't really come out as words, though a moment later, Yejun has untangled his sister from Bonggu and looks ready to fight.
"What the actual fuck?" is the first thing that Yejun says.
"It's not what you think," Jonghui says, face reddening when she catches sight of Hamin and her other cousin, supposedly Noah. They look both confused and surprised. "I tripped."
"You tripped," Yejun repeats incredulously, then turns to Bonggu. "Shetripped?"
"She was trying to pull me up," Bonggu says, and Jonghui turns even redder.
"My sister just said she tripped," Yejun says lowly, "What actually happened?"
"She tripped," Bonggu says, and at the same time, Jonghui mumbles, "I tried to pull him up."
Jonghui looks at him in dismay and he glares back at her. There's something extremely intimidating standing under Yejun's gaze, which Bonggu has unsuccessfully tried to ignore many times. There's an underlying threat, like,hurt Jonghui and diethat he's very sure Yejun would follow through with. The main problem with that is Yejun might one day believe he intended to hurt Jonghui and then that will turn into another huge mess that Bonggu doesn't really wanted to deal with.
It's the truth. She was trying to pull me up, so there's nothing to be afraid of.
Bonggu straightens his shoulders and attempts to look Yejun in the eye. "I fell off the couch and she pulled me up," he says. "Ifsomethingreally was happening, do you think we'd remain on the ground for over thirty seconds after you ran the doorbell? It was an accident. Nothing else."
Everyone in the room is holding their breath. Yejun's glare is unwavering, though he looks more conflicted than before, as if debating whether or not to trust him.
"Fine," he finally mumbles, but the tension is still thick and no one moves.
Suddenly, Jonghui claps her hands. "Dinner's going to be ready in a little while," she chuckles nervously, "So why don't we—" Her eyes widen, this time because of actual surprise. "Oh my God. The food. Oh my God."
She flies into the kitchen then. For some reason, everyone releases the breath they were holding.
Dinner with Hamin and Noah is a solemn affair.
Noah is, at least, very much nicer than his cousins, and though Bonggu can still sense the weariness from him, he at least attempts to start a conversation with Bonggu. He's definitely not as bad as Yejun and Hamin.
Jonghui doesn't speak much but spends the whole dinner glaring angrily at her rice, as if it had offended her. Little words are exchanged and the few times Bonggu peeks at Yejun, the latter still looks outright furious. Unlike Jonghui, who's staring at her food offhandedly, Yejun stabs at it and takes angry bites of his food.
"So," Noah says, dismantling the silence, "Bonggu. Are my cousins being nice to you?" He glances at Jonghui, who's still poking her rice. "Jonghui's always an angel. Yejun, though…"
Bonggu remembers Jonghui telling him that Noah is the oldest out of all of them, but even the oldest seems to be wary of Yejun. Not that it's surprising, really, since there's a death vibe around Yejun at the moment. Hamin hasn't spoken a word since dinner started, though Bonggu can't tell if the younger is simply doing it out of awkwardness or because he's actually scared of Yejun.
"Hyung," Yejun grits out, "I'm not the intruder here."
"Intruder is a bit strong of a word…" Jonghui pipes nervously, "Guest."
"Nam Jonghui," he growls. Bonggu can almost sense the barely-contained anger.
She shuts up and goes back to looking at her rice.
Even Noah doesn't try to start a conversation after that.
When dinner is finally finished (which Bonggu has extreme trouble doing; swallowing the food feels like swallowing a rock and though Jonghui's not a bad cook, each bite tastes like dust in his mouth), he excuses himself (after reassuring Yejun that he would come back and do the dishes later on in hopes of pacifying his anger at least a bit) and locks himself in his bedroom, trying to relieve himself from some of the tension. He can hear the Nam s talking in muffled voices outside.
"You look depressed," someone says. For the second time in the afternoon, Bonggu jumps in surprise and almost trips over his bed.
Eunho stands, arms crossed in front of his chest, looking very much amused. This time, he's gotten rid of the God awful outfit he had been in dressed in at their last encounter and the only thing he's wearing is light blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Admittedly, it's easier and less harsh on his eyes to look at.
"You look depressed," he repeats.
"I heard you the first time," Bonggu snaps, sinking down into his bed. His head is still spinning and there's nothing but a flimsy wooden door separating him from a monster named Nam Yejun. It makes him feel extremely insecure. "And I'm not depressed, for your information. Just tired, though I don't suppose you know how that feels."
Eunho drops onto the bed next to him, too close for comfort. Bonggu scooches to the side so they're not touching. "You know," he says, "Yejun's not a bad person. He's just protecting his sister."
Protecting his sister from what? Me? Bonggu swallows the words one by one and instead, goes to the more immediate problem. "How do you know what Yejun's like?"
Eunho gave a shrug. "You know, sometimes I watch you. He doesn't like you, but that's actually pretty understandable. Put yourself in his shoes for a moment.
"I don'twantto be put in Nam Yejun's shoes. And why are you taking his side—" Bonggu freezes. "Youwatchme?"
Eunho gave him a Cheshire cat grin and wiggles his eyebrows. "I do." He freezes, then his hands go to his mouth. "Oh dear. That was very un-angelic of me to say. I only happened to witness what happened with you and Jonghui and sequentially, when he came back home. It was quite amusing."
Bonggu scowls, though at the same time, he feels his face reddening. There was something very embarrassing about the fact that Eunho had witnessed everything. "You're a jerk," he groans, "If you weren't here to supposedly help me get back…" He pauses. "To gain humanity, or something."
On the bed besides him, Eunho suddenly seems more solemn than before, as if his words struck a nerve. The change in attitude is almost painfully obvious and slowly, Bonggu turns to look at the taller. His face is serious and the smile has disappeared as quickly as it came. Every outside noise seems to have frozen with Eunho and all of a sudden, Bonggu can't hear Jonghui and the others talking outside.
"What is it?" he asks.
"What if I told you," Eunho says, a certain kind of hesitance in his voice, "That you weren't suppose togainhumanity—"
"Wait,what?"
"—but toregainhumanity?"
All of a sudden, Bonggu's absolutely paralyzed from head to toe. "What?" he manages to choke out.
Eunho blinks. "Just something for you to think about," he replies lightly before bouncing to his feet. Somehow, the lightness in his voice doesn't reach his eyes. "Angels were all human once, too. Anyways… I'll take my leave now. Nam Yejun's coming to talk to you, by the way. See you soon."
Angels were all human once, too. But why can't I… ever remember being human? Apart from now?
Confused and muddled, Bonggu stares at Eunho's rapidly dissipating figure, grasping wildly at words and unanswered questions, though it is already too late. Eunho has disappeared, taking all the answers he had hoped to have with him.
However, there's a knock on the door and all his confusions fly out the window at Yejun's voice, the exact thing he has been dreading to face every since Yejun returned home that afternoon and saw him and Jonghui.
"Bonggu, open up," Yejun calls, "I'm here to talk like a civilized person."
There's a pause as Bonggu tries to unfreeze his limbs. Yejun waits a couple seconds. "Open up," he snaps, "Before I break down the goddamn door."
Bonggu hurries to unlock his door, gulping and telling himself to hang onto the wordcivilized.
Chapter 7
VII
Vulnerable
"You know," Yejun says, looking downright terrifying, "I let you stay in my house because my sister wanted you to say, but there's a clear limit between what youcanandcan'tdo and I want you to know that if you overstep that limit, I won't hesitate to kick you out."
Bonggu's head is still spinning wildly from Eunho's words and he finds it hard concentrate on Yejun's words. And though the warning (is what Yejun said a warning, or more of a threat?) is crystal clear in Yejun's voice, Bonggu doesn't even try to fight back or retort. Numbly, he nods at Yejun, unsure of how to respond or evenwhatto respond with. Perhaps there's something awry with him lately, because instead of feeling angry of being chastised like a child, Bonggu can (to an extent) imagine how Yejun feels. That, and the fact that there's definitely something that's amiss, though he can't place his finger on it quite yet.
"Really," Bonggu mumbles. He doesn't feel like fighting, or even being remotely hostile towards Yejun like he would've done in the past. He feels too exhausted to do so. Too much happening at the same time, too much to think of. "She was just trying to pull me up. Jonghui gave me a couple of her books to read in the afternoon, and I fell asleep. That's all."
Perhaps Yejun is overly-protective of his sister to the point that it irritates Bonggu. Perhaps he's somewhatjealousof the tenderness and infinite care in Yejun's gaze when he talks Jonghui, even when he's scolding her. But somehow, in a slightly annoying way, it makes it impossible for Bonggu to completely dislike Yejun. Maybe it's the way his shoulders sag, almost as if out of relief when those words come out of Bonggu's mouth. Maybe it's the almost defeated look in his eyes that makes him hesitate.
"I'll believe you on this one, Chae," Yejun says with a long sigh. He scrubs a hand over his tired expression. "But make sure you don't do anything to her that you'll ever regret. She may seem like she can handle everything on her own, but to me, she's still my little sister and it's my job to protect her. Noah and Hamin are probably leaving soon. If you want to see them off, then you can come out of your room. I'll do the dishes alone tonight."
Bonggu stares as Yejun slips out of the room quietly.She may seem like she can handle everything on her own.How could Jonghui handle everything on her own? She had trouble carrying four grocery bags that weren't even heavy. Walking for thirty minutes had made her exhausted.
He doesn't go see Noah or Hamin out. He hears Noah asking about him outside, and still, Bonggu lies on his bed staring at the ceiling. There's a tight feeling in his chest that he can't place and he doesn't even know where it originates from, like the feeling of something being amiss.
From Eunho's words? Perhaps.
Yejun's? Likely.
He thinks of Jonghui and her smile and the tired expression she wore on the first night Yejun returned. The fatigue at the smallest of things.
Her. Maybe it was because of her.
Jonghui has stocked Bonggu up with books from her room.
During the day, around noon when the atmosphere felt the most sleepy, they would sit together on the couch.
Jonghui types away on her laptop, one headphone pushed away from her ear slightly. Bonggu can hear the faint sound of music coming out, but he blocks it out and concentrates on the book at hand. Sometimes he finds himself curious of what exactly Jonghui's writing, but she doesn't provide him with much detail and doesn't seem like she's willing to share. They sit in companionable silence for a while, though involuntarily, the words start blurring in front of his eyes and Bonggu drifts off into his own thoughts instead.
He thinks of Eunho, with his goofy smile, large ears and bright personality. He thinks of the grave expression on Eunho's face when he speaks:What if I told you that you weren't suppose togainhumanity but toregain humanity?
Angels were all human once, too.
Even if his memories of his life as an angel are fuzzy and almost inaccessible, Bonggu's positively sure that he's never been a human. His lifestartedas an angel. He can remember the ceremonyof becoming a seraphim.Yet still — there's doubt starting to bud in his mind and the feeling of dread. There's a burn in his chest when he thinks of it. It hurts like how his head does when he tries to recall something hecan't.
"Bonggu," Jonghui says, "do you want to cook dinner with me?"
Bonggu blinks at her, settingThe Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobedown, thoughts forgotten. "Me?" he asks. "Cook?"
"Well, yes, you." Jonghui closes her laptop and sets it to the side, pulling down her headphones. "Yejun texted me and said he wanted Chinese food. I think he's more used to eating that compared to Korean food, because he's been in China for so long." She gives a laugh. "I have a recipe book, so come chose with me what you want to make."
"Youwantto cook with me?" Bonggu repeats. "Me?"I'm pretty sure our meal is going to be inedible if you want me to cook…"Why?"
Jonghui gives him an incredulous look, as if his question is ridiculous. "Yes, you, Bonggu. Why not? You have nothing to do."
Bonggu shrugs at her. "You could do better by yourself, though."
"But you're my friend," Jonghui says insistently, "and even if I would do better alone — which I don't believe — it's nicer with your company and I'd rather screw up the meal with you together."
Bonggu freezes at that.Friend?It's a word he constantly hears — "Oh, this is Haejun, my friend", or "Are you Yejun's friend that's staying over?" — but it's never been directed at him genuinely. It's a word that's thrown around. Friend is a word that has much more meaning behind it than it's first shown. It's a title to beearned.And quite frankly, he can't think ofhowexactly he earned that title from Jonghui. Thinking back, he's probably been anything but a friend.
"I'm your friend?" he hears himself ask.I'm her friend?
Bonggu feels torn between feeling genuinely confused, happy, and nonchalant. The nonchalant act is swallowed up easily and he blurts out, "I neverearnedbeing your friend."
Jonghui stands up and gives him a slight smile. "Friend isn't exactly a title you earn," she replies, "Not exactly. And even if it were, you've earned it. Now, are you going to help me or not? It'll be nice to have someone helping me for once."
Bonggu can't exactly comprehend how and why and when it happened, but Jonghui's presence is no longer intolerable to him. She gives him a quick grin and though he's confused, he smiles back and gets off the couch. He thinks back of the time — it had only been three weeks ago — that he'd just arrived on earth. It seems like a horribly long time ago, almost like a lifetime. So many things are different that it scares him. It seems terribly overwhelming to think of, because if there's one thing that scares Bonggu, it's change. Change makes things inconsistent, and consistency is one thing Bonggu likes. It's one of the reasons he enjoys staring at the sky — it's endless, forever, but even then, it's consistent. It doesn't change much, either, at least not drastically.
And however long he has to spend on earth in order to go back — Bonggu hopes that it won't change. Perhaps, if everything would just stay the same as it was now, then it wouldn't be so unbearable after all.
"This one's spicy," Jonghui tells him, tapping a finger at the recipe Bonggu had been eying. "If we make it, you won't be able to eat it."
Bonggu scowls at the recipe. It looks appetizing, though spicy food is a definite no. Reluctantly, he flips the page.
Jonghui sits next to him, chin in her hands. Bonggu can feel her kicking her legs under the table, though it doesn't bother him as much as it would've before. She's leaning extreme close to him and her breath smells slightly of the mint toothpaste everyone in the house has a tube of.
"You can choose," Bonggu finally says, pushing the book towards Jonghui. "Make something your brother would like." He thinks for a second. "Also, make something that won't require too many dishes. I have to wash them."
She laughs at that. "Okay."
"Oh. And nothing spicy."
"Noted."
Jonghui draws the book to her and starts to flip through the pages, eying the recipes. Bonggu takes that moment to scooch away and while he starts looking at the pictures with Jonghui, his attention draws away from that and he finds himself looking at her expression instead. Her face is scrunched up in concentration and she traces the list of ingredients on one page with a finger. Then, offhandedly, she shakes her head and flips to the other page. For some reason, Bonggu finds himself watching as she repeats the same thing for a couple of pages. By then, he's not even paying any attention to the cook book.
"This!" Jonghui suddenly looks up at him. Alarmed, Bonggu jumps away from her, guilty for being caught staring and genuinely surprised.
"Eureka," Bonggu mocks lightly, still flustered from being caught off guard, "Please don't do that again."
"Sorry." She holds the book out to him, though draws it back before Bonggu has caught a proper glimpse of the dish and its name. "Noodles. You like noodles, and this one's a lighter dish. I don't really want to make something too strong or oily."
"Okay," Bonggu says. "Fine with me, I guess."
"You need more enthusiasm." She pushes away her chair, which scrapes loudly.
"You need less enthusiasm," he retorts.
"Touché."
Bonggu finds himself laughing for an unbeknownst reason. Jonghui has a weird way of taking away worries and questions from his mind and it's one thing that he decides he can be thankful about.
"I heard Jonghui say you helped her cook?" Yejun asks as a dries a dish a puts it into the drying rack.
"Yes," Bonggu grumbles. Yejun might'veseemedas if he believed him yesterday, but he can still feel the tension practically radiating off him and there's no way Yejun fully trusts him. The hostility that was there in the beginning isn't there anymore, but he can catch Yejun eying him whenever he talks to Jonghui.
"She probably did most of the work," Yejun comments and Bonggu feels his grip tighten on the wash cloth. It takes all of his already-waning self control not to throw it at Yejun. Unlike Jonghui, who got from unbearable to someone whose company he thoroughly enjoyed, Yejun went from unbearable to bearable and then back to unbearable.
"I helped her," Bonggu snaps, placing one plate down with a loudclang.Yejun remains unfazed.
"Depends what you mean by help," Yejun fires back, dropping the plate into the drying rack with an equally loudclang."I doubt what you did was even considered helping, but she's just too nice—"
"How old are you?" Jonghui interrupts, poking her head into the kitchen. "Why are you two bickering like elementary kids?"
"He started it," Bonggu accuses, pointing a finger at Yejun, who reaches over and turns the tap to full. Water splashes onto the plate he held under it at full force, spraying the front of his shirt and most of his face. It's freezing cold, a shock, and for a moment, he's too shocked to even respond to Yejun.
Then Jonghui lets out a stifled laugh, and Bonggu picks up the dripping washcloth and throws it at Yejun.
"Hey!" He's not fast enough to actually dodge. With a twinge of satisfaction, Bonggu watches as the greenish cloth catches Yejun around the left cheek before dropping to the ground. Behind him, he hears Jonghui say something along the lines ofoh my goodness.
"The atrocity," Yejun gasps and he's even faster than Bonggu because a moment later, a handful of cold sink water is being flung all over him. In the corner of his eyes, he catches Jonghui with a hand over her mouth, possibly stifling her laughter, eyes sparkling. She laughs a lot, but at that moment, she lookswhollyhappy. The second of distraction is enough time for Yejun to fling more water at him.
Both of them end up completely soaked (at least, the top half of his body is). There's water all over the kitchen floor, the dried dishes are once again wet, and Jonghui is looking on with an expression of both amusement and horror.
"I'm not sure if you guys are actually having fun or if there's hidden animosity behind this water fight," she says finally, "But that's going to be mopped up before someone slides on the water and trips."
Yejun rolls his eyes. "Yes ma'am. Let me go change. Bonggu can mop it up." He turns to head out the kitchen, but Jonghui sticks an arm to block him from going any further. With the adrenaline gone, Bonggu's beginning to feel cold.
"You're helping," Jonghui tells him firmly. "You can't make Bonggu do all the work."
"Why are you siding with him and not me?"
Jonghui scans him. "How old are you, two?" She grins. "Stop being lazy. I already made you Chinese food for dinner, remember?"
There's a strange feeling of warmth that spreads in his chest as he watches the banter between Jonghui and Yejun. It seems so natural, sohuman— something Bonggu has never yearned to be — but seeing it, he thinks that there's perhaps something he missed out about being human. There's something that's so genuine about humans that Bonggu can't exactly pinpoint. Perhaps he simply never noticed it when he was an angel or perhaps he hadn'twantedit — but whatever that emotion is, at that moment, Bonggu thinks that it's something he'd want.
The clock on his bedside reads 11: 23 PM, though Bonggu still lies awake staring at the ceiling. There's not much that he can see, since it's dark, but ever so faintly, Bonggu traces the outline of the lights on the ceiling.
He doesn't want to admit it, but Jonghui acts as a huge distraction from his own insecurities, confusion and questions. There's something about her that blocks out all of that, and the moments when he's alone is the time that his mind begins to wander back to the exact things Jonghui blocks out for him.
The window to his room is open and the curtains flutter gently. Even for Seoul it's quiet tonight. Every couple seconds, he can hear the sound of a car rushing by.
The clock blinks. 11: 24.
It's awfully lonely, Bonggu thinks.How have I never noticed this before?Before, when he had been an angel, the only thing he wanted was to be left alone. Complete missions alone. Fight alone. But somehow, now, lying alone in the bed and being unable to fall asleep already felt like it was too much. If he were to return to heaven, to regain his position and his status — would the emotions stay? Would he still have to deal with the God-awful loneliness that was beginning to gnaw at him at times like this? And if he did, was there anyone up there who could keep him genuine company like Jonghui did?
And would it be better to stay on earth until he grew old and died, instead of returning?
"You know, it's not very healthy to sleep so late," someone says.
The curtains flutter again and Eunho steps through.
Through the silvery moonlight, Bonggu can see the white wings extended from Eunho's back. They shimmer brilliantly, shining against the night, before the wings dissipate in front of his eyes and Eunho is standing in his human form. Bonggu sits up abruptly, though his head spins and his vision takes time to adjust before he can see properly. Seeing the wings reminds him. Going back is his ultimate goal. It's the solereasonhe's supposedly changing. Apart from regaining his wings, his position and his power, nothing else really matters. Jonghui's simply one person in countless other ones — staying on earth because of petty feelings? That's ridiculous, Bonggu realizes, now that he thinks of it.
"Why are you here this late?" he demands as quietly as he can, but his mind isn't really on the question.
"You're not asleep, are you?" Eunho retorts, "I thought you wanted to see me."
Well, I don't,Bonggu tries to say, but for some odd reason, the words don't come out. It's what he would've saidbefore,but for some reason,now— he can't quite get the words out. He can't remember the last time he was happy to see Eunho, but this time, he is. Or maybe happy isn't the right word — perhaps relieved is.Relieved,he decides.Relieved. He reaches over the flick on the bedside lamp.
"I wanted to ask you something," Bonggu says lowly. "It's about what you said to me last time."
Eunho's expression tightens. For centuries upon centuries, Bonggu has always seen Eunho as the one angel who could never quite achieve seriousness, but now, he begins to think that he was perhaps wrong about that, because Eunho looks wholly serious. He's not sure how angels can even appear tired — but Eunho does, anyways. There's a hidden emotion in the back of his eyes that Bonggu can't quite decipher.
"I know," Eunho confesses, "It's why I came here today. It didn't seem fair to keep you hanging."
Bonggu sinks back into his bed. A couple of weeks ago, he would've questioned what other intentions Eunho had behindit's not fair to youbecause it all seems too kind and good to be true for him to believe. But it's tiring to fight and to deny at every small thing, so Bonggu drops the doubts he has. "You kept me hanging for over a day, though," he tells Eunho.
"Sorry. I had to leave yesterday."
"So what is it? You said that angels were human once and that I was supposed to regain my 'humanity', not gain it. So what? None of that makes sense. Even if my memories are blurry, I know for sure that I was never a human."
Eunho draws in a deep breath. "Because you never were supposed to remember in the first place."
Bonggu blinks at him rapidly. "What?"
"Have you ever wondered?" Eunho asks. There's a certain hint of bitterness in his voice, though the expression on his face is sad. "Why I even bothered to stick by you all those years? After you made it clear I wasn't welcome? After youstabbedme, for goodness sake?"
Bonggu hesitates. "No," he finally murmurs, "Not before. It's crossed my mind a couple of times, but I never…" Now that he actually thinks about it, it does seem odd. Eunho's strange persistence through every single thing, no matter what he did.
"Do you know that every other angel has their memories from their past life except you, Bonggu?"
His throat constricts. "What?"
"There's a reason you can't remember," Eunho says. "And I'm not going to help you remember any of it, because there's a damn good reason why youcan't,but know this: you weren't always this way. You weren't born an angel. No one is."
"Why can't I remember, then? Who was I, even?" Bonggu shakes his head. "That's ridiculous. Why would I be the one who can't remember?"
Eunho uncrosses his long legs and stands to full height. Bonggu feels even smaller now — with Eunho towering over him, he feels utterly helpless.
"You were the one who chose not to remember," he replies quietly. Just for a second, Bonggu can see through the goofy grin and poor jokes that seem to form Do Eunho: instead, he sees the seraph angel with countless years of experience behind him. He sees the eyes that have seen a lifetime of sadness.
"Think of it, Bonggu," Eunho tells him quietly, opening the window again. "I can't stay long. You chose to be like the way you were. It was supposed to help undo the trauma, but you've also blocked off every other emotion."
"Why can't I remember?" Bonggu repeats. It's a mantra in his head now; he can't get the question out of his mind. He can't evenstartto answer it, and it's painfully frustrating. "What happened? What trauma?"
"Remembering isn't what's important." Eunho's beginning to fade again, dissipating into the night wind. "You can learn from it without remembering. You weren't send here for a task, Bonggu. You weren't sent here because no one could handle you or because everyone else hated your attitude. You were sent here foryourself. You thought you could protect your own heart with the walls you tried to build?"
"I didn't," Bonggu protests, but his voice sounds weak to his own ears, "I didn't."
"You might've forgotten what happened, but the emotions are still there. You've tried to bury them and change yourself, but there's still there. Open your eyes. Your wings and your status aren't the only thing you've lost, and neither are they the most important things you should be trying to gain."
With that, he leaves and Bonggu is left staring at the empty room. He closes his eyes and tries to calm his heart and mind, but there's a sharp pain in his chest that Bonggu can't quite ignore any longer. Perhaps letting himself feel it is easier than pretending it's not there.
Chapter 8
VIII
Lighthearted
"I don't like cucumbers," Bonggu says, fidgeting under Jonghui's stare. "So stop looking at me like that."
Jonghui moves her gaze to the pile of cucumbers he has picked out with his chopsticks, which lay in a neat pile on his napkin. They continue to pile higher and higher as Bonggu picks out more from his food, until he's very sure that every piece of cucumber is gone.
"You're such a child," she mutters, shaking her head but smiling at the same time, "If you don't like it, just eat it. It won't kill you. Besides, cucumbers don't even taste that bad. It's one thing to dislike a vegetable that has a distinct taste to hate, but cucumbers are basically tasteless. How can you hate cucumbers that much?"
"I don't like the smell of cucumbers," Bonggu insists, "Don't make me eat them!"
"I'm not! You're picking them out, aren't you?"
He wrinkles his nose at the cucumbers again, and when Bonggu's sure every single piece of cucumber has been picked out, he pushes the pile aside and finally begins to eat. Jonghui's already nearly finished by then.
They eat lunch in silence, but it's a companionable one and Bonggu spoons the rest of his food down, cucumber-free. Jonghui sits across from him, face in her hands and legs swinging underneath the table like she always does when she's bored or when she's thinking, though Bonggu is already used to the feeling of her feet tapping gently against his legs and he doesn't think much of it.
Jonghui clears the table after they're finished and Bonggu does the dishes. At noontime — or a bit after that — is normally when he sits on the couch and reads and Jonghui writes whatever she's writing on the laptop. When he dries off the last dish and retreats into the living room, however, Jonghui is closing her laptop and setting down her earphones. Her eyes ghost over him.
"I'm going to sleep for a while," she announces, "I feel sort of tired today."
"Oh." Bonggu lets his arm and his book drop limply to his side. "Uh, okay, I guess. I'll read by myself."
"Okay," Jonghui agrees quietly. When Bonggu looks at her, and shedoeslook extremely tired. He can't tell where the sudden exhaustion came from, or why she looks so tired all of a sudden, but it's no lie and Jonghui walks slowly into her room, the door shutting with barely a noise behind her. Bonggu stares at the closed door for a while more before ripping his gaze away and bringing it down to his page, though for some reason, he can't concentrate.
Jonghui's gone again,he thinks to himself,which means…Which means he'd spend the whole afternoon thinking again and again, and perhaps over thinking every single thing until he was even more confused than the beginning. Bonggu groans to himself and tries to read his book, but it proves virtually impossible (and he's used to the steady keyboard clicks from Jonghui; it's awfully silent without).
After a while of staring blankly at the pages, watching as the words blurred together, Bonggu sits up from the couch and tries to clear his mind. Despite the quietude, everything still feels hectic in his head.
He lets the question he has been avoiding all day resurface; Eunho's words from the day before. He had expected Eunho to elaborate — which he sort of did — but Bonggu still can't understand it or wrap his mind around it. There's too many questions that lead to other ones: if hehadbeen human once, why did he forget all his memories? What had happened to him that made himchoseto forget them? Bonggu couldn't even imagine anything as terrible as wanting to forget everything. That was cowardly, and he certainly wasn't cowardly — was he?
I'm not,he tells himself stubbornly,Of course I'm not.
But then why had he chosen to forget?
Bonggu shakes his head. He doesn't want to think of it even more. Asking Eunho more is probably the most direct solution (and perhaps the only solution; the only thing he's doing is going around in circles).
Still, that doesn't help him, and he spends the whole afternoon overthinking everything and trying to come up with theories of why it happened (and how it happened without him being a coward). He lays on the couch staring at the ceiling, mind drifting through the infinite possibilities, and in the end, Bonggu falls asleep too.
The first thing Bonggu hears when he wakes up is the sound of things hitting each other. It's not a sound that he can actually describe, but he sees Jonghui placing a small bottle into the drawer.Pills. Medicine.Yejun often takes vitamins in the morning from a bottle, and that's what it sounds like. Bonggu squints at Jonghui, who hasn't seemed to have noticed him yet. It definitely sounds like medicine.
"Are you sick?" he croaks as he pushes himself up, "Is that why you were so tired today?" Bonggu makes a face. "Is it infectious? I don't want to be infected."
Jonghui whirls around, wide-eyed and looking like a child caught with one hand up in a jar of cookies. "No!" she exclaims. "Those were vitamins."
"Weird," Bonggu mutters, though he doesn't think about it twice. "Why does Yejun always take his vitamins in the morning? He's so weird."
She gives a laugh, though it sounds kind of nervous. "Right…" she glances at him. "Uh, my brother's just odd."
Slowly, Bonggu sits up from the couch. He still feels lightheaded from sleeping, and Jonghui blurs into two separate people before his eyes. She looks slightly better than before, but her face is still extremely white and she looks both tired and perhaps slightly malnourished. Which is ridiculous, because Bonggu eats with her all the time and she doesn't exactly neglect her meals.
"Are you sure you're not sick?" Bonggu asks again, "You look really tired right now, you know? Fever? No, your face would be red if you had a fever."
Jonghui shakes her head at him. "I'm fine," she insists, "Just really tired. I don't think I slept really well last night, that's all."
I didn't either,Bonggu's tempted to say,because of darn Eunho.Still, he's not the one who looks utterly exhausted and pasty and sick, so he swallows the words back down. "Well, sleep better tonight," he grumbles before standing up. "What time is it now?"
"There's a clock behind you," she laughs, "You should know by now."
Sheepishly, Bonggu turns around to look at the clock. Four twenty five, it reads.
The realization dawns on him. "I've been asleep for three and a half hours?" he demands, "Why didn't you wake me? If I sleep too long during the day, it'll mess up my sleeping at night…" He trails off when he sees Jonghui. For some reason, it's getting harder and harder for him to chastise her. Bonggu can probably go on nitpicking every single thing Yejun does wrong (not that he actuallydaresto do so, because it'sYejunafter all), but for some reason, he can't find it in him to say anything to Jonghui. Awkwardly, he clears his throat. "Well. I guess you were asleep too. What are we going to do for the rest of the afternoon?"
Jonghui scans him. Slowly, she makes her way to the sofa, where she sits down beside him. "You know," she says, completely ignoring what Bonggu said (which he finds annoying, still), "You've changed a lot since you first got here. Or maybe you just got more comfortable with us? I don't know if you're willing to tell me, but why exactly were you in Korea? Family dispute? What happened to you?"
Bonggu stares at her, unmoving and trying to process the words. Jonghui meets his gaze firmly like she always does — calm, ridiculously collected and soJonghui.
You've changed a lot.It's ridiculous when he thinks of it, but then it makes sense, too. It isn't something that he can see from day to day, but when Jonghui says it, Bongguknowsthat she's right and that it's there.
"I don't remember," he blurts, and the moment the words escape, Bonggu clamps his hand over his mouth. Thatisthe truth, technically, but to Jonghui, it's definitely going to sound unbelievable. "I mean, uh…I don't want to tell you."
There's obvious disbelief written over her face, but if it's one thing about Jonghui that Bonggu admires, it's the fact that she doesn't press too much into personal matters. "Tell me one day," she says, "You know, you should tell me before you decide to leave, okay?" She hesitates, as if wanting to say something more, though after a while of biting her lip, Jonghui shakes her head slightly and stands up. "I'm fine with you keeping your secrets. As long as they don't harm you. I'll be making dinner now, okay? Join me if you want."
Bonggu sits on the couch, frozen and limbs immobile.As long as they don't harm you,Jonghui had said.
He looks on as she disappears behind the kitchen walls.What about you? What if they harm you? Why just me?
Or maybe it's that way for every secret. As long as it doesn't harm yourself, maybe it won't harm others either.
"It's going to be Jonghui's birthday," Yejun says, "And we're going to make her cookies."
Bonggu's pretty sure he's staring at Yejun like he grew a second head. "We?" he asks, "Uh, correct me if I'm wrong, but there's a reason your sister does the cooking around here—"
"We," Yejun reinforces loudly, "Weare making her cookies. Hamin said that he and Haejun would take her to a shopping center or something to distract her, andweare going to make her cookies. Is that clear to you?"
Bonggu stiffens at Haejun's name. He still doesn't like Haejun a lot. "Why can'twebe the ones that take her shopping?" he asks, "Haejun and Hamin can make the cookies. Or maybe Jonghui can make the cookies with Haejun and Hamin and we can go shopping and get something for her. Wait, no. Haejun can come shopping with us or not come at all—"
"Weare making her cookies," Yejun repeats, "Noah will get a cake. I want to surprise her with something. She really likes shortbread cookies, and that's what we're going to make. End of story."
Bonggu doesn't really understand the huge deal on birthdays and he doesn't know when his is anyways (but he can always make up a birthday: if he makes up one coming up soon, will he get a cake also? It's a valid question, he thinks). "So we're going to make her shortbread cookies," Bonggu repeats, "You and me — you can't make food and you also hate me — we're working together to make her cookies? What made you think this'll work?"
"Watch your mouth. I'm older than you."
No, I am,Bonggu thinks,by a couple thousand years.
"So what?" he says instead.
Yejun raises a hand in a threatening manner. "You impudent brat."
"Are any dishes broken?" Jonghui demands as she sticks her head through the kitchen, "Why are you guys fighting again? What are you even talking about?"
Yejun clamps his mouth shut and puts the last dish into the drying rack. "Nothing," he says quickly, giving Bonggu a glare. "We're just doing the dishes."
Bonggu's not quite sure how he ends up in the place, but he's currently trailing behind Jonghui as she pushes her shopping cart in front of her and checks the shopping list in her hands.
"You've never gone grocery shopping with me, right?" she asks, frowning down at the paper. "Why are there so many weird ingredients on here? What's Yejun doing this time?" Still musing to herself quietly, she turns down an aisle labelledcanned foods.Bonggu follows close behind her, slightly intimidated by the sheer amounts of people in the supermarket. Not that itscareshim — there's just a lot of people, and he doesn't want to get lost because if he gets lost he'd have to look for Jonghui and that's just troublesome.
"Chicken soup," Jonghui says absentmindedly, reaching for a can of said soup. She pauses, realizing she's too short and tries to grab it by jumping. It's also unsuccessful. "Why do they put it so high?" she asks no one in particular, "Gosh, who do they expect to reach it?"
After watching her struggle for a while, Bonggu pushes her to the side (gently, because Jonghui will probably topple over if he exerts too much strength) and reaches for the can of soup. After a moment of contemplation, he raises it above his head where Jonghui still can't reach.
"You're just short," he teases, "Most people would be able to reach it."
She peers up at his raised arm indignantly, then latches both hands around his bicep and tries to pull his arm down. Bonggu switches the soup to his other hand, laughing at Jonghui's scrunched face. She yanks on his arm again, but after a couple more fruitless attempts, she steps away from him and crosses her arm in front of her chest. Bonggu's not surewhatit is exactly that he's feeling, but the look on her face makes him feel light inside.I just really like laughing at her,he concludes to himself,she's always the one bossing me around and this is fun. Now the tables have turned.
Jonghui frowns. "I guess I won't make noodles for you tonight," she tells him, "Fine by me. I'll make something else. And I'll make sure to add cucumber in."
Bonggu's arm drops a bit. "Cucumber?" he demands, "You're addingcucumber? But Jonghui, you promised—"
In that moment, she jumps forward again and makes another grab for his arm. Bonggu stumbles, still shocked by the threat of having cucumbers in his food again (he can barely stand the smell of them), and then he's stumbled against the racks of food and Jonghui is on tiptoes and leaning over him, still trying to reach the can.
She stills when she finally seems to realize the position they're in, and then Bonggu's the second one to freeze. Slowly, he lowers his arm but Jonghui doesn't make a grab for the chicken soup, either.
They're so close that Bonggu can count her eyelashes (not that he wants to or particularly cares about looking at her), and he can trace the outline of her face and her eyes and every other feature. Not that he really wants to do that either, but whehter he wanted to or not, he's stilldoing itbefore he realizes he has. There's awkward, unbreakable silence for a couple seconds before the squeaking of another shopping cart interrupts it. Quicker than Bonggu can react, Jonghui snatches the soup out of his hands and drops it into her own shopping cart, at the same time backing a huge distance away from him.
"Grab another can," she says quietly, though she doesn't quite look at Bonggu. He stands in shock at confusion for a little while longer before taking another can from the rack.
"You need two?" he asks in an attempt to break the tension, though she still doesn't look at him. "What are you making for dinner?"
"I don't know," she mumbles, "But I'll add cucumber in it because you're being a terrible person."
"Hey!" he runs after her as she starts wheeling the cart away at an alarmingly fast pace. "Jonghui! Wait! You're not adding cucumber into anything you're making! Hey! Look at me when I'm speaking!"
She brings the cart to an abrupt stop, though she still keeps her gaze fixed on the cart itself on not on him. Frustrated, Bonggu tries to peer over the curtain of hair and to her face.
"Why is your face so red?" he asks finally. Her faceisred — her cheeks are flushed and even though he's looking at her straight in the face, she still turns away. "Is it hot in here or something?"
Jonghui shakes her head and pushes Bonggu's head away. "Let's just go," she mutters, "I have to hurry and get all this shopping done. There's still half the list left, and it's already two thirty four—"
"It's not even that late," Bonggu interrupts, still confused. "Why is your face so red, anyways?"
Jonghui glares at him. "It's not red," she says stubbornly, but itis."Just help me get the stuff I need on the list, okay? And stop making fun of my height! You're not very tall either."
"At least I could reach the soup."
"Shut up!"
Bonggu's never seen Jonghui so aggressive and snappy (or flustered, so to say) and he's not sure if it's amusing or not. Still, when she refuses to speak to him for a couple minutes, he drops the subject and helps her pick out groceries. After a while, it's forgotten and Bonggu is careful not to bring it up again because he doesn't like being ignored. He stands behind Jonghui quietly as she checks out the groceries.
They're left with three large bags of groceries, and the first Jonghui picks up with ease. She reaches for the second, but it proves a lot heavier than the first and she nearly topples over because of it. Bonggu snatches the bag from her, then takes the other one just in case she almost falls over again. It's not very heavy, really, but he tells himself Jonghui is smaller and obviously weaker than he is, so it makes sense.
"Thanks," she manages to say, then stretches out an open palm. "I can take one, though."
"I'll carry it," Bonggu grumbles, "Isn't that what I came along here for? To help you reach cans you can't reach and carry the groceries?"
"I could've reached it on my own—"
"Just let me carry them," he interrupts. "Give me the other one if you want."
Jonghui looks at him for a while longer, then lets out a long sigh. "Okay," she finally agrees, "But let me carry this one, okay?"
The lady behind the cash register looks at them, and both of them stop talking for a second.
"Your boyfriend is really sweet," she tells Jonghui.
Bonggu counts three emotions that flash on Jonghui's face in less than five seconds: surprise, confusion and then embarrassment. She shakes her head fervently at the woman. "He's not my boyfriend," she explains hurriedly and Bonggu stands awkwardly beside her, unsure of what to do or say. Was that a compliment? He isn't even sure anymore.
They don't talk until they've exited the place and Bonggu finally dares to glance at Jonghui again. "Your face is even redder," he observes.
"Shut up," she repeats, though this time, she's laughing a bit.
Chapter 9
IX
Happiness
Bonggu isn't a fan of cooking, and cooking with Yejun just makes it worse. Actually, cooking with Jonghui hadn't been bad at all — however, her brother is a completely atrocious cook and is probably worse than Bonggu himself.
Jonghui often claims that Yejun can't cook to save his life, though Bonggu hadn'treallyunderstood how much she actuallymeantit until he witnessed Yejun making food for the first time. Just by opening the sack of flour has made the kitchen basically unrecognizable. He's not sure how much flour they even have left, seeing that Yejun had basically spilled half of the bag. The front of his shirt is covered in white.
"We're going to make the cookies and then we're going to make the icing," Yejun tells him determinedly, apparently unfazed by his small failure with the flour. Then, like reading off something, he recites, "We'll use confectioners sugar for the icing. We'll ice the cookies and then we'll be writing 'Happy Birthday Jonghui'over them with another color of icing. Suho will bring the cake and we'll put the cookies onto the cake's top. Does that make sense so far?"
"It's kind of a dumb idea," Bonggu says, but he really is just being honest.
Yejun gives him a murderous look. "It's notdumb," he growls lowly. "It's herbirthdayand I want to do something she appreciates isn't a dumb idea and I don't seeyoutrying to actively do something."
"I'm helping you right now," Bonggu points out. "So yes, Iamactively trying to help. Technically speaking."
"Do you really think this is a dumb idea?" Yejun repeats, each word accentuated.
Bonggu looks at Yejun's hands. They're lying on the countertop, dangerously close to where the knives lie. He gulps. "It's not," he grits out.
"Good." Yejun looks at the piece of paper in his hands. "Now that we've had that cleared up, let's start."
Bonggu glares at Yejun but doesn't say anything more. Not that Yejun willreallystab him with a kitchen knife, but Bonggu can never fully trust Yejun and he still finds the other slightly scary. Without Jonghui here to pacify Yejun, he decides that it's better to be safe than sorry.
"Pass me the sugar," Yejun finally says, "I'm going to need a cup and a half."
"Sugar?" Bonggu asks. He doesn't know where the sugar is.
"Look in the cupboard," Yejun says, a tinge of impatience and sarcasm laced into his voice. "You know, sugar? It's white, and they're very, very small. It's in one of the see-through glass jars so that you can see it's white and very, very small."
Bonggu tells himself to ignore the sarcasm (it's very hard) and looks for the sugar.
An hour later, there's spilled batter all over the countertop, half of the ingredients of the cookies absolutely everywhere and Bonggu is beating the icing sugar and glaring at the opposite wall. There's a streak of something white across his cheek (anda lotof white on the front of his shirt) and his hands are still sticky from the batter. Yejun is trying to unstick the recipe paper from his hands.
"The cookies smell weird," Bonggu notes as he drops the chopsticks back into the bowl and lets go. The eggbeater is broken and there's nothing left they can use to stir. "Are they supposed to smell like that?"
Yejun raises his hand to his face and seems to remember at the last moment that he has cookie batter on his hands. "How am I supposed to know what it smells like?" he snaps, irritated. "Just mix the batter, Chae."
Bonggu scowls back at Yejun. "Why aren't you doing anything?"
"Because I've already done stuff. I'm also the only one that works in this house and it's my money that provides for you and those are my clothes you're wearing while you sit your ass in this house and eat my sister's food."
He scowls again. "If you hate me so much, why haven't you kicked me out yet? I don't understand you."
"Then don't," Yejun snaps, looking even more irritated. "I have my reasons. You're not going to understand." He reaches for the sink, leaving a smudge of batter on the handle when he turns it on. Vigorously, he scrubs his hands under the water, eyebrows drawn together in an expression that doesn't really suit him. Bonggu can't tell what Yejun's thinking, but it's one of those moments that he doesn't dislike Yejun as much as he normally does because the other looks absolutely worn out, and perhaps even slightly sad.
"Then why don't you explain to me so Icanunderstand?"
Yejun closes his mouth. His gaze is fixed on the sink, faraway and unfixed. His hands are frozen under the sink. "I don't think you evenwantto understand," he mutters.
"I'm not going toknowif I want to understand until you tell me what thereisto understand."
Yejun closes the tap. His hands are free from the batter, but he looks absolutely despondent and Bonggu feels a strange pang of pity in his heart.Somethingis definitely wrong for someone like Yejun to wear such an expression on his face. "Look," Bonggu tries again, "I don't know what's wrong, but if it's going to make you feel any better, why don't you just tell me? Whether or not I understand or not."
"Do you know the feeling of losing someone?" Yejun finally asks.
No,Bonggu's tempted to say. Because he hasn't, not that he can think of.I know of losingsomething, he thinks.I've lost things. My wings. My power.
"It's painful," he says instead. Losing his wings had been painful. Physically, too.
"Painful." There's a grim sort of smile on Yejun's face, a haunting look. "Isn't that sort of an understatement? Losing someone is different from losing something. Knowing that you'll lose someone is even worse."
Bonggu stares at Yejun's face and tries to decipher the look. He can't.Losing someone is different from losing something.What is the difference? Losing his position and his wings and his status had hurt. Losing someone would probably hurt, too. Bonggu wonders if he had lost anyone in his past life. Maybe he had. Maybe it had been the reason he wanted to forget it all. Unless Eunho decided to tell him one day, he's not sure if he's ever going to figure it out.
Yejun stares at the door, gaze still fixed on a place where Bonggu cannot pinpoint or see. "Painful," Yejun repeats quietly under his breath. He lets out a sad sort of chuckle.
There's a sense of dread in Bonggu seeing Yejun like this.Who in the world does he have to lose?he wonders quietly.
"Jonghui," Yejun says, "Happy birthday."
She stares at the ruined kitchen with a look of both surprise and horror on her face.
"Happy birthday?" she echoes, eyes wide. "Did you guys try to kill each other here?"
"Well, neither of us are dead," Yejun says dryly. He steers her away from the kitchen. "Bonggu and I will clean that up later on."
Haejun, Hamin and Noah pile in after Jonghui. Noah eyes the kitchen and makes andOwith his mouth, though Yejun ushers him into the living room where they cannot see the kitchen.
The cake is set on the table, Bonggu and Yejun's cookies spread on top with the words 'Happy Birthday Jonghui,'written on top. Jonghui lets out a laugh that sounds a little like a sob. "Now I'm twenty five," she says, "Bonggu, I'm the same age as you now."
"How old are you?" Bonggu counters.
She laughs. "Twenty four."
"I'm twenty five."
There's a strange pang in Bonggu's chest when he reminisces it. It seems to be so long ago, yet only yesterday. He hadn't exactly put much thought into it before because he didn'tcare, but now he wonders how Jonghui would react if she ever heard of his true story. If he even got to telling her about it one day. If there's anyone in the world that Bonggu would tell, he thinks that it's possibly Jonghui. Even if no one else knows the reason that he's there, even if Yejun thinks he's some wanted criminal in another country or in a gang — if he gets to tell Jonghui about it one day, Bonggu thinks that perhaps that's all he needs.
Not that Bonggu really knows much anyways either. He doesn't know his own past. He supposedly chose to forget it, but that's basically all he knows. Eunho refuses to tell him much on it, and he's powerless to do anything to find out more by himself.
"Well," Yejun interrupts Bonggu's train of thought. "Ah… I'd like to give you my gift that I got for you a little while later. But… mom told me to give you something when you reached twenty five and I'll give it to you now."
Jonghui's smile turn into something that looks more like a grimace. "Oh," she says quietly. "Thanks."
Yejun basically flies out of the room and Noah clears his throat awkwardly. "Happy birthday." He reaches over and ruffles her hair, and Jonghui shies away, laughing harder this time. "I was originally going to join Yejun and Bonggu in making the cookies and I thought I could also make the cake with them, but that plan backfired when your brother begged me to buy the cake. I don't think he trusts his cooking abilities enough."
"He shouldn't," Jonghui mumbles under her breath, "I'm surprised those cookies aren't burnt."
"They're shortbread cookies!" Yejun calls from the other room, "I'm positive that I didn't mess them up!"
"I suppose we'll open presents later," Noah says, "and since you're always the one cooking, Yejun went and got your favourite noodles for dinner and apparently went halfway across Seoul to get them. We just need to heat them up."
"I don't trust my brother to even heat them up."
Noah lets out what sounds like something in between a laugh and a choke. "I'll heat them," he assures her. "Anyways." He leans over this time and wraps his arms around her neck, though Jonghui's too short and has to stand on tiptoes to hug him. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks," she replies, voice muffled.
Noah retreats to the kitchen. Haejun and Hamin both wish her happy birthdays and hug her in turn, though they, too, leave to the kitchen to supposedly help Noah (Bonggu lets out a sigh of relief when Haejun is gone).
He's left standing in the living room with Jonghui, who taps her hands against her legs ever so slightly (though Bonggu doesn't miss it). She looks very small, especially when she's still wearing her coat — which is long, and it makes her look even smaller.For a moment neither of them speak, and Bonggu almost wishes that Yejun will come back, just to break the awkward silence (it's probably the first time he's wished for Yejun's presence).
"Happy birthday," he blurts. "I'll be twenty six soon, so we're not going to be both twenty five for a long time, you know."
Jonghui laughs. She's stopped tapping against her thighs, and Bonggu hopes that it's because she's not as nervous as before. "Thanks," she says, "You know, this is very special. Evenyou'rewishing me a happy birthday."
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Bonggu notes that she makes no comment on turning twenty six.
Bonggu pauses, unsure of what to say next. Yejun still isn't back, and neither Noah, Hamin nor Haejun have returned from the kitchen. "Do I have to hug you too?" he asks.
"Do Igeta hug?" she shoots back.
Bonggu stares at her. "Do youwanta hug?"
"Do you evengivehugs?"
There's more silence. Bonggu lets out a sigh, then opens his arms awkwardly and wraps them around Jonghui.
It's not that he's never had contact with her before — the close proximity just feels odd. Different. New. Not necessarily in a bad way. Apart from the one time she'd accidentally fallen on him (in which Bonggu had been too panicked to think properly because Yejun had come into the house), it is the closest he's ever been to her.
She feels about just as small as she looks, and just as fragile. Jonghui has to tiptoe to actually hug back and Bonggu's afraid that he'd break her if he put too much pressure into the hug. Still, despite everything else, there's something strangely comforting about it. The thought of contact with someone was never something Bonggu particularly cared about, but somehow, he realizes that it's nice. A little bit.
"Happy birthday," Bonggu mumbles again, into her hair. "I hope you've had a nice day."
"Thanks," Jonghui replies, voice just as muffled, and then she pulls back. "Thanks, really. It's… nice that you guys made me cookies and all. I really appreciate it."
She pulls back from him, though this time, her smile is wider than before. "I'm actually really excited for the cookies you and Yejun made," she tells him. "He says they turned out nicely."
"Blow out the candles and make a wish," Haejun tells Jonghui. He's sitting next to Bonggu (which Bonggu had been tempted to complain about, though he decides against it because it's Jonghui's birthday and she probably doesn't want to see him and Yejun arguing).
She complies. Through the darkness, Bonggu makes out her hands clasped in front of her, eyes squeezed shut and mouth moving silently.Make a wish.Then she looks back up at them and Noah flicks the light switch back on.
Jonghui looks at the cake in front of her, something between a look of confusion and a look of gratitude lingering on her face. She stares at it for a while longer, then says, "This is the most unique cake I've ever seen."
"In a good or bad way?" Yejun asks hopefully.
"Good," Jonghui decides.
She cuts the first slice into the cake. Yejun gives her the slice with the cookieJonghuiinscribed on top, with the frosting he and Bonggu made.
Bonggu also gets a slice of the cake, but he's not really hungry. Instead, he watches Jonghui dig her fork into it, and he wonders what her wish was.Wishing seems stupid, Bonggu thinks. It wasn't going to come true. It was completely useless. What was the point of making a wish that would never be fulfilled?
Jonghui takes a bite into the cookie. Yejun hasn't moved, just watches his sister with a look of slightly nervous anticipation. Bonggu remembers that he's the one who's made the cookies, so he looks up at Jonghui too and checks for her reaction.
She looks confused, then she blinks. "Yejun," she says slowly, "What did you put in this?"
Bonggu has never seen Yejun look so panicked. "Is it not good?"
Slowly, Jonghui puts the cookie down into her plate. "What did you put in it?" she repeats.
"I followed the recipe. I swear I did every single thing on the recipe."
Noah reaches over and takes Jonghui's cookie from her and breaks off a corner. He looks at it. "Does Yejun actually destroy everything he cooks?" he asks.
"Hyung, I did everything I was supposed to!"
Noah eats the cookie. And then he gags and spits it back out into his napkin. "It'ssalty," he chokes out, "Yejun, what did you do?"
Looking very much like a kicked puppy (it's funny, Bonggu thinks, and he has to hold back his laughter because he'sneverseen Yejun like this and it's really amusing), Yejun shakes his head, eyes wide. Bonggu snags a piece of his own cookie and eats it, though a moment later, he's also spat it out into his napkin because it tastesbad.Slightly confused, he glances at Yejun, who also looks at him. He can't think of anything that they'd done wrong in the process of making the cookies.
"Salty? How can they besalty?"
"You know, sugar? It's white, and they're very, very small. It's in one of the see-through glass jars so you can see it's white and very, very small."
The amusement suddenly leaves Bonggu.
At the same time, Yejun lets out a long groan. "Chae Bonggu, you absolutefuckup," he growls just as Bonggu connects the dots. He flinches back, away from Yejun. "I swear to fucking God—"
"Don't use God's name like that!"
"—I'm going to murder you when this is over."
"You said that it's "white, and they're very, very small.""
"It'slabelledsalt and sugar!" Yejun bursts out. He looks torn between being mad and just crying. "Chae Bonggu, I can't believe you fucked this up—"
"Hey," Jonghui cuts in. "Yejun, it's fine."
"It's not!"
"It really is," she says, beginning to smile. "It's funny."
"Jonghui—"
This time, she grins wider. "Itreallyis fine," she reassures, "You didn't ruin my birthday or whatever you're thinking. It's the thought that counts."
She smiles at Bonggu too. "You too, Bonggu." Jonghui meets his gaze steadily, smile lifting even more. Tentatively, Bonggu smiles back. There's something about the look on Jonghui's face that makes him feel happy too. Beside him, he can feel Yejun relaxing slightly.
"I don't think these cookies are edible, though," Noah adds in.
They eat the cake without the cookies. Despite the fit Yejun threw earlier, Bonggu doesn't think he actually minds that much anymore. It's loud, and though it's something he normally hates, it's loud because of laughter and fun and joy and for once, Bonggu gives in fully to the feeling of happiness.
When Noah, Hamin and Haejun leave, Bonggu and Yejun are left to clean the kitchen up. Jonghui sits on the side idly, legs swinging under the table as Bonggu mops up the kitchen and Jonghui washes the dirty dishes. He's pretty sure that he's gotten flour over his clothing again, which is horribly inconvenient and annoying, but there's a feeling of lightheartedness that blocks out all the negative emotions and he doesn't quite mind the flour as much as he would've before.
"I'm going to run to the washroom," Yejun mutters, "I'll be back in a while."
Bonggu grunts out a reply. He's pretty sure Yejun's going spend half an hour in the washroom so he won't have to help with cleaning the kitchen.
"When's your birthday, Bonggu?" Jonghui asks.
Bonggu pauses and looks up at her. She peers back curiously.
"I'm still older than you," he declares.
Jonghui laughs. "I know. When, though?"
"Sometime." Bonggu doesn't know, actually. "Why do you want to know?"
"Just curious."
He shakes his head and goes back to cleaning. The floor is almost spotless, and most importantly, he's rid it of the batter and flour and spilled materials (Bonggu wonders how Noah managed to heat up the noodles in the kitchen without slipping over something or even stepping on something). They sit in silence for a while, until Jonghui finally says, "Well, if you tell me, maybe we can celebrate it."
"Let's just assume it's on December 31st," Bonggu mutters, "We can celebrate my birthday and the new year together."
Jonghui's absolutely silent for a while. Bonggu sneaks a look at her when he thinks she isn't looking. She's staring at her clasped hands, held in front of her almost as if she were making a wish. "Yeah," she finally agrees, voice barely audible. "Let's."
Chapter 10
X
Wistfulness
"Where are you going?"
Jonghui looks up, eyes wide. She has a large hat on her head and it shadows her face, and she's carrying a backpack. In her hand, she has her phone (there's a long story behind phones and Bonggu, but he decides to stay away from them because he can't quite figure them out and it's very frustrating). Bonggu glances outside the window, where the sun shines brightly over a crystal blue sky. The weather is very nice today, apparently, which is a rare phenomenon. It's mid-July, and outside is hot.
"You're also wearing all black," Bonggu continues to observe, scanning Jonghui again. She has on a black dress shirt and black leggings and her shoes are also black. The only thing that isn't black is her hat. "You're going to be very hot if you go outside."
Jinae glances down at her attire. "I know."
"So why are you wearing black?"
"I'm going to visit my mom's grave," she says, "So I thought that I should wear black."
Her words actually filterproperlythrough his mind a little while later, but it's too late and he's already spoken. "But it's not afuneralyou're attending."
Jonghui pales a bit. "I know," she says quietly, "But I thought—"
"Your mother passed away?" Bonggu blurts out, reprioritizing his questions.
Jonghui blinks at him. There's a long moment of silence, and then she finally nods slowly. "Yeah."
Bonggu bites his lip, unsure of what to say. She hasn't mentioned much of her family before apart from her father, but that was at least two months ago and Jonghui had looked extremely uncomfortable about the topic and she'd lead the conversation another direction as soon as she glanced on it. She didn't mention much about her mother, but Bonggu had assumed that it was because there wasn't much to say anyways. The only thing she'd said was, "My mom and Yejun were always there when I grew up."
So it must've been somewhat recent.All of a sudden, Bonggu feels bad. "I'm sorry," he mutters, though he genuinely does mean it. "I… I couldn't imagine. I'm sorry."
Jonghui presses her lips together. She doesn't meet his gaze, but after a moment, she asks, "Then do you want to come with me?"
Bonggu's head snaps upwards, unsure if he heard her right. "Huh?"
"Do you want to go with me?" Jonghui repeats, "You haven't been outside for a while, and… and I think it'd be nice to have company sometimes. And the weather's very nice too."
He eyes Jonghui. Despite the confidence in her voice, she's looking at everywhere in the room but his eyes and her hands are tapping against her legs. Bonggu briefly wonders if sheknowsthat others can see her nervousness through the habit, which only becomes more and more obvious as time passes. Why did Jonghui invite him? Him, who's not exactly the nicest person to her — why did she invite him to something so personal and… fragile like a deceased's grave? He thinks of Yejun's sad look, the smile on Jonghui's face that sometimes appears quite forced, and the way she avoids all touchy subjects.I'm sorryis such a useless phrase, as is pity a useless emotion. Once upon a time, Bonggu would've avoided it like the plague — because it was so useless andhuman —but for some reason, he feels it now.
And if pity is useless, if the wordsI'm sorryare useless — whatisn'tuseless?
"I'll go with you," Bonggu agrees, standing up from the couch.
What isn't useless?He thinks of Jonghui's finds running across the wound on his back, cleaning the blood.It's okay,she would say.
Comfort isn't useless. Healing isn't useless.
"But Jonghui," Bonggu says after a pause, glancing at the all-black outfit. "I don't think it would be disrespectful or anything if you dressed for the weather, right?"
Jonghui agrees to changing her outfit, and she comes back out in five minutes wearing a greenish summer dress instead. It matches much better with the white hat, and her hair, which was pulled to braids down the side, stands out better against the light green material.
"Better?" she asks him.
Bonggu nods. "It's pretty."
Jonghui glances away, and Bonggu takes note of his words. "The dress is pretty," he corrects. "I was talking about the dress. The color is very nice. I like green." He gives her a chagrin smile, though it turns out to look more like a wince. "So… where are we going first?"
She hands him something, and Bonggu takes the bus pass. "I'm going to go buy her flowers first."
Bonggu frowns. He knows that giving flowers to the dead are a tradition, but he's never done it before and the thought is slightly overwhelming if he thinks of it. "Are you sure you want me to come?" he asks her, "I mean… this is for your mom, right?"
Jonghui opens the front door, keys dangling in her hand. "I'm sure," she says firmly, "Because you're my friend and I trust you and I believe that I should bring you with me this time. Think of it as…" she trails off. "Well…"
Bonggu lingers inside for a while before following her, waiting for her words to sink in. They replay on his mind for a very long while, before Jonghui turns around and asks him when he's going to leave. He follows her out the door, mind still whirling with too many unidentified emotions (or perhaps he's just not willing to identify them).
They travel in silence for the rest of the way, sitting in silence side-by-side on the bus. It's hot outside and the sun beats down on him through the vehicle window, but Bonggu doesn't quite mind because there's currently air conditioning on the bus. Jonghui has leaned her head against her window, and her eyes are closed, the slight wind ruffling the stray strands of hair. Unconsciously, Bonggu traces the outline of her face, though herips his gaze to the outside when she moves.
After around twenty minutes, they get off. There's the faintest hint of a breeze in the air, though it doesn't offer much against the scorching sun and Bonggu feels uncomfortably hot. He glances at Jonghui, who's face is basically hidden under her giant sunhat. Now that he looks at closely, there's an equally white ribbon tied around it, ending in a bow. Jonghui peeks up at him. "Are you hot? Do you want a hat too?"
Bonggu feigns nonchalance, even though hedoesfeel hot. "It's not that bad."
Jonghui squints at him. "Are you sure you don't want a cap?"
"No, I said I'm going to be fi—"
"You might get sunburned on a day like this, though."
Bonggu can feel himself pale. "You can?"
She nods.
Bonggu chooses his next words carefully. "Then I'll get a hat, I guess."
Jonghui lets out a slight laugh, then points a finger at one of the stores nearby. Bonggu follows her finger to the storefront, whereSung's Bouquets and Flowersis written. He can see bushes of flowers through the display window, though there's not much more that he can see inside. It doesn't look very fancy, and the light blue paint is peeling in places. He's not sure why Jonghui has come to this store.
"It's close to the graveyard my mom's in," she explains, "It's walking distance. I'll treat you to a cold drink after, and see if we can buy you a baseball cap in a store nearby."
Bonggu perks up at the cold drink, but it's all forgotten when he enters the flower shop with Jonghui.
It smells nice,is his first thought. That, and the place issmall but neat, assortment of flowers lined up carefully along the walls. They're color coordinated, which Bonggureallyappreciates because he likes neatness and orderly things. For a while, he looks around him, before Jonghui taps his arm gently.
"This is Bonggu," she says, and Bonggu is about to ask"why are you introducing me to myself?"when he catches sight of the old woman hobbling towards them. He almost stumbles back in surprise, but manages to compose himself last minute.
"Uh, hi…?" he says, still surprised.
Jonghui gives a slight wince. "Sorry," she apologizes to the old woman, "He's not… he's not from Korea and doesn't know the traditions."
"Yes, I do—" Bonggu begins, but Jonghui steps on his foot.
"Sorry," she repeats, this time louder.
"Sorry," Bonggu echoes, glaring at Jonghui, though this time he remembers to bow. He does it stiffly.
She waves the mistake away with her hand (which Bonggu's not sure if he feels insulted or relieved about), and smiles at him. "It's fine," she tells him, then turns her attention to Jonghui. They speak in low voices, and Bonggu takes the time to look around the place. The first thing he spots is the bouquet of red roses arranged in a vase, then the pinker ones behind them. He scans the whole place, and for some reason, the one that his gaze lingers on the longest is the one in the blue section.
It's simple, and perhaps a little bit smaller than the rest. The flowers itself are small, blue, and there's a hint of what Bonggu recognizes as baby's breath in the midst of them. It's pretty, in an odd sort of way, a combination he doesn't exactly expect to see. He's not sure how long he's stood in the middle of the place, staring at the flowers, but then another boy's voice breaks him away from his thoughts.
"Jonghui!" someone calls, and Bonggu glances upwards in surprise.
A boy stands at the doorway, eyes wide and a grin beginning to form on his face. He's not very tall, Bonggu thinks with a twinge of mean satisfaction. He grins at her, and the satisfaction turns into a much less pleasant feeling. "I haven't seen you in a while."
Jonghui shifts on her feet a bit uncomfortably. "I'm here to pick up some flowers."
He walks over to them, and Bonggu feels himself stiffen. "You look really pretty," he says.
Bonggu's not sure which feeling is more prominent around them — his urge to drag Jonghui out of the shop and leave or the embarrassment (and perhaps slight irritation) radiating off Jonghui. "It's just the dress, Junseo," she tells the boy (Junseo, apparently), "The green's nice. That's all."
"Anyways, I think sometime we should meet—"
"We're in a hurry," Bonggu cuts in through grit teeth, looking down at Jonghui. "Right?"
She looks up at him, relief obvious on her face, "Right!" she exclaims, perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm in her voice, "We're in a hurry! I need to pick up the flowers and go. Thanks, grandma. And you too, Junseo." She smiles at him too, and Bonggu fights the urge to tug at her to leave right then and there.
"But Jonghui," Junseo says, voice close to a whine, "Why can't you—"
"Okay, that's enough," the old woman says, "Jun, go back to work."
He lets out a huff, but then gives Jonghui a final wave and a smile. "I'll see you soon," he says, seemingly oblivious to her wince. "Bye, Jonghui!"
"Bye," she echoes with a lot less enthusiasm, and then she gives a half wince/half smile at the old woman. "So," she says, "I'll… get the flowers now?"
It turns out the blue flowers that caught Bonggu's eye in the first place were the ones Jonghui ordered. They're wrapped up carefully and Jonghui takes them like they're fragile, and then they exit the shop. Jonghui takes him to another shop close by to buy him a baseball cap, and though Bonggu mentally debates whether or not it's worth it, she's already bought him one and is handing it to him to put on.
Bonggu stares at the cap in hand, unsure of whether or not he wants to be seen wearing it. It really looks like something Eunho would wear.
"SHINee's back," he reads dubiously, "Why did you buy me this one?"
Jonghui's lips quirk upwards. "No reason."
"What's SHINee?"
"Just wear it before you get sunburned, okay?"
Bonggu grudgingly tugs the cap on. They walk down the sidewalk in silence for a little while, the sun hot against the back of his shirt. Jonghui hums a song quietly beneath her breath, arms wrapped carefully around her bouquet of flowers. Bonggu thinks back onto Junseo, and he wonders who the boy was and how he knew Jonghui. She doesn't associate with a lot of people, Bonggu thinks, and it's odd that Junseo seems to know her well.
"Who was that other guy?" he blurts before he can stop himself.
"Nam Junseo?" she looks up in surprise. "Why?"
"No reason. Just wondering."
"I was in the same class as him in high school, and I always get flowers at that boutique which his grandmother owns. I see him sometime, I guess."
"He called you pretty," Bonggu bites out before he can stop himself, "And then you said the exact same thing I said to you this noon."
She frowns. "You called me pretty too."
He can feel his face flushing, and it's not from the heat. "That'sdifferent," Bonggu says, but then he thinks again. Jonghuididlook pretty, and though he didn't outright mean it when he said it (it was more of an of-the-moment thing). In fact, he corrected it so it was about her dress (and the color of it), nother."Actually, I called your dress pretty. Whatever. What kind of flowers are those?"
If Jonghui notices his quick switch of topic, she doesn't mention it. She holds up the bouquet for Bonggu to see, though he's already familiarized himself with the pretty blues and whites. It's pretty in an odd way, he thinks again. It's the sort of beauty that's plain and something he'd pass-by on a normal basis, but looking at it again makes it seem prettier and prettier.
"Forget-me-nots," Jonghui tells him, "They're not very fancy and the bouquets with them are always quite small, but my mom really liked them. Baby's breath is a symbol for everlasting love. I think it's very… fitting."
"Forget-me-nots," Bonggu muses under his breath, staring at the pretty blue flowers, "That's what they're called? It's an odd combo."
"Is odd bad, then?"
"No," he replies, "Odd can also be good. Difference doesn't make something bad."
The rest of the walk is spent in silence, and Bonggu dwells on his thoughts instead and tries his best to ignore the heat. He wonders what exactly happened to Jonghui's mother, though he knows enough not to ask her about it.Does it hurt?he wonders absentmindedly,To remember a person you loved and to know that they're no longer there. How much hurt would it be?
They arrive at the graveyard around ten minutes later. The grass is surprisingly green beneath his feet, freshly mown, pretty against the blue sky. Gravestones stand out around them, mostly all varying colors of grey with names of the deceased carved onto them. Jonghui walks slowly, bouquet of flowers clutched to her chest as she maneuvers around.
They stop under a tree. It's huge, branches stretching over, and the shade is cool when Bonggu steps into it. Jonghui pauses, closing her eyes and standing still.
Bonggu doesn't move either. For a while, he watches her, white hat hanging on her back and hair blowing in the wind. She looks peaceful, and Bonggu realizes that it's not the dress that makes her look pretty — she justdoeslook pretty. Even if she swapped the dress for the black attire she previously had on… she would still look pretty.
And then Jonghui kneels down and places the bouquet of flowers gently on the gravestone she's standing in front of, clasps her hands in front of her and murmurs something that's lost in the breeze. It's strangely silent for Seoul around them, and for some reason unbeknownst to himself, Bonggu takes off his hat and kneels down in front of the grave too.
Jonghui's mother — wherever she is now — he hopes she's peaceful and happy and content, and wholeheartedly, perhaps for the sake of Jonghui, Bonggu wishes that.
"Do you miss your mother?" Bonggu asks quietly after a little while.
They sit against the trunk of the tree (it's an ash tree, she tells him), a little ways away from Jonghui's mother's grave. It's barely two o'clock in the afternoon, and Jonghui suggest that spend time sitting under the shade instead of leaving immediately. She props her chin in her hands and stares across the place, a mix of greens and greys and blues, spotted with the occasional dots of other bright colors from the other flowers left near the gravestones.
"Yes," Jonghui replies firmly. "I do."
There's an odd sense of deja vu, and Bonggu follows Jonghui's gaze. "Do you ever… not want to miss her? Doesn't it hurt?"
"It hurts," she agrees, "But it also tells me that I loved them."
Bonggu blinks, turning to look at Jonghui. She doesn't turn her head away from the horizon. "What do you mean?"
"It tells me that I loved them," Jonghui repeats, "If I didn't love them, I wouldn't miss them. Somehow, that… comforts me a bit, I guess."
"But it hurts." He stares down at his hands, unsure of where the questions are coming from, but there's an odd feeling behind them, almost as if he wants them answered for himself. Nevertheless, Bonggu continues. "Wouldn't it be better to forget one day? Forget that you knew them. So you wouldn't have to miss them and hurt."
"But then what's the point of loving someone if you're going to forget them once they leave you? If you forget them, you're not just forgetting the pain. You're forgetting all the precious moments they've spent with you, you're forgetting the love between you, and you're… losing all those beautiful memories. Loving someone doesn't limit to the short time they've spent on earth with you. It stretches way farther than that, don't you think? Just like what the baby's breath symbolizes, because it's everlasting. And I think even if you somehow chose to forget it all, you'll never fully forget it because… because if the person really mattered to you, they'd leave imprints on you and your life that nothing can erase. Not even if you forget everything else."
Bonggu wonders what exactly that he has chosen to forget when he became an angel. He can't quite fathom Jonghui's words — not yet, at least —but though they seem odd to him, it's a beautiful sort of odd, just like the chosen combination of flowers Jonghui got for her mother.
They remain in silence for a while longer, both staring up at the endless blue sky. Then a couple of white clouds drift through, and Bonggu stands up and puts on his cap. "Let's go get something cold to drink like you said," he says. "It's very hot right now even in the shade. It's uncomfortable."
Jonghui stands up too, brushing off her dress. "Okay," she agrees.
"Okay," Bonggu echoes. He glances back at the grave one last time and the unique blend of blues and whites.
Chapter 11
XI
Joy
August follows July, and the temperature is hot, almost to an unbearable point. Eunho's visits become less and less frequent, and Bonggu isn't sure what's going on. Jonghui's the same as always, though there are times when she's more distant. Her eyes are fixed elsewhere, as if she's thinking of something else, and there are times when she looks surprised when he taps her.
Yejun is no different. Perhaps he's abitmore bearable, but Bonggu can't really tell. He seldom thinks of it much anymore, but when he's alone, he sometimes wonders when he's going to be going back. He doesn't ask Eunho about it —why?Bonggu wonders,Whydon'tI want to ask Eunho? —but hewantsto and at the same time, doesn't.
Perhaps it's because he can't quite bear to leave. It's hard to admit even to himself, but if hedoesleave… well, the thought of leaving Jonghui and even Yejun is hard. He's so accustomed to them, so used to seeing them around, he can't quite imagine how life will be like as an angel if he returns there. The thought itself brings him unrest.
Bonggu's unsure of when he started changing in such a way — before, it was going back that he wanted. But now, it just becomes more and more unclear day by day. He watches Jonghui laughing, throwing cushions at her brother playfully and he wonders if going back isreallywhat he wants.
He doesn't know where his uncertainty stems, but sometimes, Bonggu thinks that it's from Jonghui. They've spent countless hours together, but strangely, it feels much different than it was in the beginning. He finds herself looking at her more, and when the thought occurs to him that he's staring, he looks away, embarrassed even though she hadn't known he was staring. Bonggu brushes it off every time, though there's a whisper inside of him that refuses to go away (but he's also very good at pointedly ignoring it).
It's exactly August sixth when Yejun pulls him aside one night.
It's a hot day, and the air conditioner is turned on. Even though it's nighttime, Bonggu can still feel the heat of the day lingering in the air. Jonghui has retreated to her room, claiming she was tired.
He's left with Yejun in the living room. The other holds a cup of ice water in his hand, and he's sitting on the side of the sofa that's closest to the air conditioner. All the windows and shut tight to keep the hot air out and the cold air in, but it still isn't very ideal.
The sky is yet to darken, and Bonggu thinks gloomily to himself that he doesn't like summer. There are times when he goes out with Jonghui and they buy cold drinks andthat'snice, but May had much better weather.
"Bonggu," Yejun says slowly, "You've been here for almost three months, right?"
Bonggu turns to Yejun just as slowly. "Yes," he says cautiously, but he can almost see where the conversation leads. "Why?"
"I hate to put it bluntly this way, but when are you planning to leave? You do know you can't stay here forever, right?"
"You hate to put it bluntly," Bonggu echoes, half to himself.
Yejun's gaze is sharp. "What?"
"When you just met me, you wouldn't even have said that. You would've told me to leave."
He narrows his eyes. "What are you getting at?"
Bonggu almost laughs, but it feels choked. It's ridiculous, and he wonders if Yejun feels the same way. Around three months ago, Yejun had been staring him down, accusing him of taking advantage of Jonghui. And now…now.Bonggu's unsure now. He hated Yejun back then, solely because he felt like an obstacle in his way, but now…
"If I leave," Bonggu begins, "Will you miss me?"
There's tense silence in the room for a very long time. Neither of them speak, and Bonggu's aware of the fact that he has yet to answer Yejun's question about leaving, but he himself isn't sure and he can't really say. Finally, Yejun breaks the eye contact and stands up abruptly off the sofa.
"Well, I suppose I don't want to do the dishes alone," he says gruffly. "I'm going to go to sleep early because I have work tomorrow. Goodnight."
Bonggu stares as Yejun's figure retreats into his room.Well, I suppose I don't want to do the dishes alone.
Is that ayesfrom Yejun's side? The thought is so ridiculous, but at the same time, it brings a twinge of emotion in his chest that Bonggu can't place. It's Yejun, he shouldn't really care. Because Yejun makes him wash the dishes everyday, tries to put him down whenever he can, and Yejun probably hates him. But still, for some reason, he sits alone on the couch, confused and perhaps slightly sad.
Because there will be a day when he has to leave, and Bonggu knows that full well. He's not sure if it hurts more to leave, or to be left behind.
"You know," Yejun says around a mouthful of rice, "I was thinking of going to Eurwangni beach in a couple of days. I think I can take a day off."
Jonghui's eyes light up. "Really?"
"Yeah, if you want."
"Yes, please! Who's going?"
Yejun's eyes meet Bonggu's, though surprisingly, there's no hostility there like Bonggu would've imagined before. His voice is sarcastic, but for some reason, they don't seem like taunts like they did before, but more of a teasing manner than anything else. "I don't suppose we'll be leaving Bonggu behind. Do you want to invite Hamin and Noah?"
Jonghui seems to think for a moment, before she finally shakes her head. "Let's just go like this," she decides, "It'll be nice to not have a lot of people for once, even though it's nice being with them."
"How long do you want to stay, then?" Yejun asks, "It's not too long of a drive, but we could book a hotel to stay in for a night."
Jonghui hums. "That sounds nice."
"Then it's set?" Yejun asks, eyes still trained on his sister expectantly, "You're okay with this, right?"
Jonghui nods, and then it's set. Bonggu's never been to the beach, but when he falls asleep that night, he dreams of how it looks like.
They drive for Eurwangni two days later, and it's August tenth. Yejun doesn't have a car himself, but he rents one. For some reason, both Bonggu and Jonghui choose to sit in the back, leaving Yejun alone in the front. Somewhere along the way, Jonghui falls asleep, leaning against the window pane next to her. The air conditioning has turned the car somewhat cold, and Yejun has forbade them all from opening the window on a highway. Bonggu drapes one of his extra sweaters over Jonghui, because she's never hit him as the healthiest person and he wouldn't have been very surprised if she caught a cold from the air conditioning. Especially since she's wearing a dress.
The rest of the car ride is spent in silence. Bonggu isn't sure if Yejun just doesn't know what to say, or if he's afraid of waking Jonghui up — whatever it is, he doesn't talk either, though hedoesspend the rest of the time looking at Jonghui. She looks peaceful when asleep, very small under his hoodie. Even though the corners of her lips curl upwards like her brother's, she doesn't look like she's smiling for some reason, right then.
He continues looking at her until Yejun speaks. "Stop looking at her when she's asleep, you creep," he says, and Bonggu jolts, meeting Yejun's eyes in the rearview mirror, "That's not very gentlemanly."
Bonggu can feel his face warm, though he refuses to back down. "I gave her my sweater, so thatisgentlemanly."
"Are youevergentlemanly?" Yejun shoots back, "You ruined her birthday cookies by putting—"
"Let's not talk about that," Bonggu interrupts loudly, and Jonghui lets out a noise of protest and both of them shut up.
The beach is very crowded, and that's Bonggu's first thought when they arrive there. Jonghui is awake then, though she still looks sleeping, blinking repeatedly and looking around with a lost expression on her face. Their hotel isn't far off, so they unload the car and head there first.
Bonggu carries the suitcase and one of the duffel bags, and Yejun carries the rest of the miscellaneous items. Jonghui has the giant umbrella on her back. They have two bags — the suitcase, which has Jonghui and Yejun's clothing, and the duffel bag which has Bonggu's (but in reality, they're also Yejun's because all of Bonggu's clothing are technically Yejun's). They stop to check in at the front desk, and the bored looking receptionist hands them the room key.
"There's only one room?" Bonggu asks as they head up the elevator. The hotel is considerably fancy, and the temperature is just right. It's very nice, and he's not sure he actuallywantsto go to the beach. "But we have three people."
"There's two king sized beds," Yejun states a matter-of-factly, "You can sleep on the ground."
"Hey!"
"They're king sized," Jonghui tries to reason, "And you know how hotels always have like ten pillows on each bed? Just split it in two. Or I can sleep on the ground. Doesn't matter to me."
Before, Bonggu probably would've gone with that. If Jonghui is offering herself to be the one to sleep on the ground, then he isn't going to refuse. But oddly, for some reason, he shakes his head at her. "I'll sleep on the ground," he says, "It's just for a night, anyways."
"No, we can split the bed," Yejun interrupts, and Bonggu sets down the suitcase and duffel bag on the ground. "It's big enough to do that, anyways."
They head directly for the beach afterwards. Bonggu doesn't have a swimsuit and there's a whole lot of people and he definitely doesn't want to get wet because seawater doesn't sound nice, but he follows Jonghui towards the edge, where the waves lap at his toes. The water isn't extremely cold, but it's definitely nice against the hot sun beating down on his back.
"Do you really not want to swim?" Jonghui has an oversized shirt — probably her brother's — over her swimsuit, and it goes up to her thighs. "It's pretty cool for a day like this."
Bonggu squints at the sea. It sparkles brilliantly under the sunlight (perhaps too brilliantly, because he's having trouble looking at it directly), and the waves are calm. The sand isn't too bad, either.
"I don't want to get wet," he says to Jonghui, though he takes another tentative step towards her so that the water is up to his ankles. "Besides, I'm not wearing anything for swimming under this and there are a lot of people here and it's super crowded—"
All of sudden, water is all over him and Bonggu's too shocked to respond. Even though it's hot, the sudden coldness is enough to make him freeze. His shirt is soaked, at the back especially, and then Yejun walks into his line of vision holding a green bucket and grinning widely. "Well, now you're wet so you have no choice."
Bonggu has no idea where he got the green bucket — it's one of the things the kids use to make sand castles — but his hair is wet and his clothing and it's awfully uncomfortable. "Why did you—" he starts, and then seawater is flung at him again.
"Traitor!" he manages at Jonghui, who runs to the side, laughing. He tries to kick water at her, but she's already out of reach. He's about to run after her when Yejun yells something along the lines of, "Take this!" and another bucket of water is poured over him.
The water drips down his face, blurring his vision, but Bonggu finds himself laughing. "This is bullying," he protests at Yejun, whoisclose enough for him to kick water at.
Jonghui's standing a couple of feet away, the water up to her knees. She's the only one who isn't very wet — Bonggu's completely soaked from the two buckets of water and what Jonghui splashed at him, and the front of Yejun's shirt is also splattered with water. All of a sudden, the uncomfortableness doesn't seem to matter that much, because it's fun and he has a change of clothes anyways. Yejun raises his green bucket in a threatening manner.
"Jonghui," Bonggu says, taking a step away from Yejun, "Your brother will turn on you if you stay on his team."
"Every man for himself," Yejun shoots back, "There's no teaming up."
"You have a bucket!"
"So what?"
They spend the rest of the afternoon fooling around in the water, and in the end, all three of them are completely soaked. Bonggu doesn't mind at all, because all of them are laughing.
At night, they eat seafood at one of the of the restaurants near the hotel they're staying at. The food isn't exactly bad, but Bonggu thinks that he prefers Jonghui's cooking.
By the time the sun is setting, they're sitting inside the hotel room, all three of them in a new set of clothing. Jonghui has a summer dress on, and it's a yellowish, orangish tint that matches with the color of the sunset outside. She sits on her bed as Yejun sets up their bed by separating it with the extra pillows.
"It's only eight," Jonghui finally says, breaking the silence, "We should do something. Let's go walk on the beach."
"I have work a need to do," Yejun muses, frowning. "I took a day off, but I still need to finish something. But I suppose we could go for a short walk—"
"Let's go." Bonggu's not sure what has gotten into him when he stands up, but he thinks that all the laughter and joking around from earlier on the day might've rubbed off on him because he still feels somewhat content. "I can go with her, if you want."
He half expects Yejun to refuse and become adamant to go with them because he's volunteered and Yejun doesn't exactly trust him, but finally, the other sags into the bed. "I'm sorry I can't go with you, Jonghui. Take care of Bonggu for me. He's quite a handful sometimes."
The words take a couple of moments to sink in, and Bonggu tosses the pillow nearest to him at Yejun before turning to Jonghui. "Let's go, then?"
Yejun shuts the door behind them, and they exit the hotel a couple of minutes later.
The sun is beginning to disappear behind the horizon, and it shines over the ocean brightly. Half of it is already belong the oceanline, but the part of it that is showing is absolutely radiant, turning the sky a mixture of warm hues and the sand a pretty golden. They leave their shoes at the dock before stepping onto the sand.
There's very little people by then, and for a while, both he and Jonghui don't speak. The wind is beginning to pick up, unlike the afternoon, when the air had been still and hot. It lifts Jonghui's dress up ever so slightly and pushes her hair back.
It's a very clear day. Bonggu's used to the cloudy skies of Seoul, where seeing a full sunset or sunrise is rare. Here, the weather is much better, the air cleaner. Seagulls circle in the sky, silhouettes against the setting sun.
"Do you still like sunrises more than sunsets?" he finally asks.
Jonghui blinks up at him, kicking a bit of sand with her bare feet. "What?"
They're straying closer towards the waves, where the water laps gently at the shoreline. "You know, when you said you like sunrises better? Because they got brighter, while sunsets get darker. Remember that?"
His toes touch the water, and it's cold, a slight shock. The sun dips lower.
"Well," Jonghui says slowly, and a wave moves forward so that they're both standing in the water. "I did think about what you said. It's pretty simple, but I do get what you meant."
"Of course you thought about what I said," Bonggu snorts, pushing her to the side slightly. "I put a lot of thought into that before I said it to you."
"You were really rude when you first came here, though. Did you know that?"
Bonggu doesn't like to think back to that time, because hewasextremely rude to her. He doesn't have much to say — it's strange thinking back then; though it was only months, it feels like a lifetime ago — or perhaps he doesn'tknowwhat to say. Whatever it is, the only thing he manages to do is nod at her.
"But you have changed a bunch," she continues, "I think you just got used to us. Are you ever going to tell me why you're in Seoul and what happened to you? And… the wounds on your back?"
The long cuts along his shoulder blades are gone. There's no scar, no nothing, as if they had never been there in the first place.But you have changed a bunch.In the beginning, her words were what he wanted to hear, because according to Eunho, the only way to return was to change. Changing meant that he could return. But now… as he stares at Jonghui, with her dress blowing in the wind, staring at him with wide eyes and the smile he used to find annoying — something twists in his chest. There's a strange sort of pain, different from the physical pain he had first felt when his wings had been cut off.
Perhaps that is what has changed. The reminder of having to go back to his status as an angel is no longer something Bonggu really wants. Instead, it has turned into something he dreads.
That's ironic,he thinks bitterly.That's stupid. That'ssostupid.
"Maybe I'll tell you someday," he whispers, though he's not sure if Jonghui hears him over the wind. "But the wounds are gone anyways."
The waves continue to lap steadily against their feet. Jonghui stares at the sunset, which, by then, is getting faint. Bonggu can see the hotel in the distance, but the moment is peaceful, and he feels oddly at ease with Jonghui next to him.
"You know," Jonghui suddenly begins, so she's turning to look at him. Bonggu draws in a sharp breath. He doesn't have time to step back, and they're almost nose to nose. Hecanmove away, technically, but for some reason, Bonggu doesn't move an inch.
"I…" she trails off too.
Bonggu can feel his heart stuttering wildly in his chest. The last rays of sunlight cast onto Jonghui's face gives a strange sort of highlight, though it's pretty.She'spretty. In a delicate, perhaps odd sort of way, like the combination of flowers that she gave to her mother.
For a long moment, neither of them speak. And then Jonghui presses her lips together and opens her mouth. "I think we should—"
Bonggu is the first to break. He's not quite sure what really prompts him to do so. He's not even sure of his own feelings (or perhaps, inwardly, he is — he just never really acknowledged them). But it doesn't seem to matter a moment later, because he's pulled Jonghui back and somehow he's kissing her.
The sky turns into a blend of colors in his peripheral vision, gleaming against the endlessness of the ocean. The waves continue, steady, unchanging, and for the longest while, they stand still. It's lingering, soft, and Bonggu hopes that everything else will be like the waves of the ocean too: steady, unchanging, calm and gentle.
He can feel Jonghui's faint grip against the shirt he's wearing, the brush of her hair against his cheeks. She's on her tiptoes, he's leaning downwards, but nothing has ever felt soright.
The sun dips below the horizon, and Jonghui is the first one to pull back. He can barely see her features anymore, but her breathing is short and erratic.
Bonggu holds his breath for the longest moment, unsure of what to say or do. It was so spontaneous, soof-the-moment,though it's not himself that he's worried about — despite the whirling, unstoppable emotions inside him — but Jonghui.
She takes a staggering step back. In the dark, her face is pale, and something less pleasant twists in his chest, a little like pain. "Are you alright?" Bonggu asks, voice airy and extremely shaky. "I'm… I'm sorry. That…" He's at a complete loss for words for once, and he can't think of anything else to say.
Jonghui takes a step back from the water, blinking rapidly. Bonggu can see the shadows of her eyelashes race down her cheeks quickly. After a long, painful moment of silence, she turns away. "Let's go back to the hotel," is all she says, but her voice is trembling so badly that she can't hide it.
Then, without another word, Jonghui turns back to the direction of the hotel. Her steps are slow, almost tired, and Bonggu lingers at the shoreside, and the feeling of pain twists even deeper.
Chapter 12
XII
Pain
At night, Bonggu's sleep is turbulent and restless, and despite everything, he can't fall asleep. The balcony window is open, and the weather is no longer hot. It's a drastic change, but the waves lapping outside have become loud and there's a cool wind sweeping through the room. On the other side of the pillow wall Yejun has built, the other two are sleeping.
Bonggu cannot.
Every time he closes his eyes, Jonghui's face appears in his mind again. Her eyes are distraught and she doesn't look straight at him. And despite closing his eyes the only way to sleep, Bonggu doesn't close his eyes because he doesn't want to see that expression on Jonghui's face again.
After a little while, he sits upwards and turns around. The air is filled with both Jonghui and her brother's quiet breathing, the wind ruffling the curtains. When Bonggu glances at Jonghui, he can see the faint outline of her body and the rise and fall of her breathing beneath the covers. She seems peaceful, looks peaceful, but his heart is not.
It was a mistake,Bonggu thinks to himself,I shouldn't of kissed her, but what's done is done.
But what did that mean?
He can't think of what it means. Because the more he thinks about it, the more impossible it seems. He knows for a fact that you don't kiss anyone unless you like them, and hedoeslike Jonghui (Bonggu will admit as far as that) and she's his friend, but he's not sure if he likes her any other way.
Do I?
He stands up from the bed and walks quietly towards the balcony doors.Jonghui,his mind whispers,There's something off about Jonghui.
Bonggu thinks of the look on her face a bit bitterly. Is that a form of rejection? Did he just get… rejected?
The balcony doors slide open soundlessly, and he steps outside. It's much colder there, the moonlight reflecting off the waves of the ocean. Clouds are beginning to draw together, flitting over the moon, though there's still a hint of moonlight that shines through the clouds.
"Why are you awake?" someone asks behind him, and Bonggu nearly leaps out of his skin.
A tall silhouette stands, leaning against the edge of the balcony and Eunho gives him a wry grin. "Happy to see me again?"
He glances down at the waves. "No."
"It took me a while to find you this time, and I don't know what you're doing all the way here. Why are you awake at such a time?"
Bonggu can't remember the last time that he's seen Eunho, and though Eunho's visits are normally alright (they're nice, but he's not going to admit that), he feels too gloomy at the moment to talk much.I wish I weren't awake,he thinks, glaring down the balcony and at the stretch of the beach.I don't want to be thinking about so many things. I don't want to be thinking about Jonghui. I don't want to be worry—
"You look like you want to murder someone, which isn't very angelic, Bonggu."
Bonggu turns to Eunho. "Have I changed?"
There's dead silence for long moment, and Bonggu scans Eunho's face, hoping for a sign ofanything.Finally, Eunho says, "Do you still want to stab me when you see me?"
Bonggu lets out something that sounds like something between a laugh and a choke. "Jonghui says I changed, but I don't know. I don't really feel different."
Eunho's gaze is serious, though he manages a thin smile. "Well, I don't know what's bugging you, but just saying, you look pretty depressed. Though I do suggest you head inside and sleep now. It looks like it's going to storm, and you won't be doing much at the beach tomorrow in this weather. I can't talk to you when you're inside, but I'll find you later."
He turns to the sea, and then pauses. "And yes, Bonggu, you have changed. Now go inside before the storm catches you. And close the balcony doors, too, or the rain will get inside."
The next day, the wind is ripping viciously at the trees, and the waves are violent and turbulent. Bonggu wakes up, still tired, though jerked out of dreamland by the nonstop pitter-patter of raindrops. Beside him, Yejun is already out of bed, pulling on a sweater and yawning. Jonghui is nowhere in sight.
He sits up quickly. "Where's Jonghui?"
"I don't know, weren't you responsible for her?" Yejun asks drily, though he nods to the washroom. "She's taking a shower. I was going to spend half the day at the beach, but the weather's terrible and it's best we go home now."
Bonggu stares outside. Eunho had warned him about the storm, but now that he sees it for himself, it reallyisbad. It's hard to imagine that just yesterday night the sky had been clear and the seas calm.
Thinking of yesterday night makes him feel downright terrible, so Bonggu choses not to and instead shifts out of the bed. "Are we eating breakfast here, then?"
"I'll ask my sister." Yejun yawns again. "How was the walk outside? I wanted to go. I should've gotten you to do my work or something."
Bonggu's jaw tightens, and he's too busy tryingnotto get worked up about what had happened that to pay any attention to Yejun's last sentence. "It was fine."Anything but.
He expects Yejun to say something sarcastic, but the other gives a slight nod, eyes faraway. "That's good, then."
The door to the washroom opens, and Jonghui steps out.
Bonggu's first instinct is to freeze, because hereallydoesn't know what to do. Jonghui also stands still for a second to long, eyes wide when they fall on him. Her hair is wet from the shower and she's not wearing the summer dress anymore, but jeans and a t-shirt. She looks tired, as if she hadn't rested well.
Then, she rips her gaze down to her feet, and Bonggu looks away also. "Are we going today, then?"
Yejun's eyes narrow, but he doesn't say anything about it. "The hotel has breakfast, so I thought we'd eat that here."
"Okay," Jonghui agrees quietly. "Let's bring the luggage down, then."
"We'll eat breakfast first and then load the car, since I need to return the room card."
Jonghui doesn't give much of a response. Her gaze is absent, and she gives her brother a slight nod before turning towards the door. "Let's go, then."
She opens the door, and Yejun takes a step forward, eyebrows furrowed. Bonggu stands still in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do or say, before Yejun turns to look at him. "Well?" he asks raising an eyebrow. "Unless you don't want to eat breakfast, don't just stand in the middle of the room doing nothing, Chae."
Bonggu's not sure he has much of an appetite. With Jonghui avoiding him so blatantly and the look of obvious distraught after he had kissed her last night, eating is the last thing on his mind. And as he faces them now, he wishes that he can go back and change what he did.If I had a choice, I wouldn't have kissed her.
Before, he would've felt angry at Jonghui. But somehow, now, he can see that she's not purposelyignoringhim — it's obvious how uncomfortable she is, and the only emotion is the tight squeeze of pain that has a firm grip around his heart.
"Come on," Yejun says again, this time louder, more forcefully, "Let's go."
The car ride home is filled with silence, and it's so crushing that Bonggu begins to feel suffocated by it. Jonghui still sits in the back seat with him and she's still sleeping, but she looks much more tired than she had looked yesterday, as if completely drained. Bonggu finds his gaze drifting off to her again and again, and while he also sees Yejun glances at them through the rearview mirrors, he doesn't make any sort of comment like before.
The storm is still going on. Rain beats down mercilessly on the windshield, and Yejun is squinting, the windshield wipers turned on to full. The sky is grey and gloomy, and in some parts of the sky, the clouds are so dense with rain that it's almost black.
Bonggu's unsure if Jonghui is asleep or if she's just closing her eyes, but the one-seat distance between them feels huge. Finally, Yejun speaks.
"What happened last night?" he asks.
Bonggu blinks. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb with me. I've know my sister long enough to see something's off. In fact, I can see inyouthat something's wrong, and I've known you for like three months."
Yejun's staring at him through the rearview mirror, and Bonggu knows it. He keeps his gaze fixed on the chair ahead of him. "It's nothing."
"Bullshit." Yejun's voice is sharp. "Neither of you would look the way you do if it really were lucky. Spit it out."
Beside him, Jonghui shifts. Bonggu automatically turns to look at her before he can even stop himself.
She has her eyes open slightly. She still looks tired, lips pressed together so that she's no longer smiling. "Yejun," she says in a raspy voice, "Please drop it. I want to sleep."
Yejun's eyebrows furrow in what looks like concern. He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut, ripping his gaze away from them and back to the road ahead of them. "Right," he replies slowly. "Right. Rest, then."
Silence takes over again, and Bonggu turns to look out the window. The rain continues to pour heavily, and Eurwangni slowly disappears from the distance. The memories from then seem to disappear too, becoming further and further away. Bonggu shuts his eyes too. Had it really been only yesterday when they'd played under the scorching sun on the beach? Had it only been last night when he had Jonghui had walked along the beach under the setting sun, the waves calm and gentle?
It doesn't seem like so. It seems like a lifetime ago. Had it only been yesterday that Jonghui was wearing the summer dress, looking happy and perhaps even healthy, kicking sand beneath her bare feet?
The tired girl with shut eyes, huddled against the corner of the car doesn't seem to be the same person.
When they get home, Jonghui is unnaturally quiet. She helps them bring the luggages up the stairs, though when they split up to unpack, she disappears in her room. Bonggu spends the rest of afternoon curled up in his bed, trying to take his mind off of everything by reading, but his thoughts always go back to Jonghui every single time.It's just a kiss,he tries to tell himself, but it's futile,I don't need to get so worked up over it. Nam Jonghui won't… Nam Jonghui…
It hurts, yes, and the words of the book are all meaningless as Bonggu cannot put his heart into reading at all. When lunch comes and Yejun announces he's bought take out, Bonggu still doesn't feel hungry despite barely eating anything at breakfast.
Jonghui's the same. She pokes at the noodles unenthusiastically, and their behavior seems to have rubbed off on Yejun too because he eats slowly, lips pressed together in a look that Bonggu can't quite decipher.
Suddenly, Yejun shoves his chair back and stands up. "Jonghui, let's go. I'm going to buy you coffee and we'll talk. Bonggu, do the dishes." He pauses. "Please."
Nam Yejun sayingpleaseto him is a rare phenomenon, but Bonggu doesn't have the energy to laugh or make fun of Yejun. "Okay," he says quietly, and Yejun tugs a wide-eyed Jonghui to her feet. He grabs the blue umbrella leaning against the wall, and despite the couple of protests from his sister, tugs her towards the door.
Half a minute later, the front door slams shut and Bonggu is left alone. He forces himself to eat, but just like everything else, he doesn't even have the heart to swallow.
The fist of pain around his chest clenches harder.
Neither Yejun nor Jonghui come home anytime soon. Bonggu finishes the dishes — it's odd doing them by himself, because he's so used to doing them with Yejun — but in the end, they're all dried and he tosses the apron to the side. The house is very quiet, and though there are times when he's been in it alone, it feels strangely different this times. Since last night, spans of silence have become strangely unbearable and Bonggu. It's suffocating, and even more strangely, it'sloud.
The air is still. The windows are closed because it's raining, and finally, Bonggu cannot take it any longer.
"Why am I here?" he asks aloud.
"Whyareyou here?" someone echoes behind him.
Bonggu knows that he ought to be accustomed to Eunho's visits, odd timing, and weird ability to show up at the strangest of moments. But still, he jumps backwards in fright.
"Why are you here?" Eunho repeats. "I thought you knew."
"Why am I still here?" Bonggu asks, struggling to regain his composure. "I thought you said I could go back when I learned what I was supposed to learn."
"You still look very down," Eunho observes instead, avoiding his what he said before. "What's bothering you still?"
Bonggu glares at him, but he still feels exhausted. He sits down back onto the couch. "Just answer my question."
"Well, last night definitely wasn't the most ideal time or place to visit, so I decided to come again today. Now do you know why I'm here?"
Bonggu shook his head. "Just tell me."
"I have already, haven't I?" Eunho asks, voice quiet. "But after what you did to Nam Jonghui last night, do you really think you just get to leave and leave her like that?"
The reminder is a slap across his face. Bonggu's head snaps upwards towards Eunho. "You knew?"
"Did you wish to keep it as a secret, then?"
Bonggu stares at his hands helplessly. "I wish it never happened."
"But it's happened," Eunho retorts, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "It happened, and you can't go back to change the past. So what will you do, now? You only live in the present, and while you cannot change the past or predict the future, youcanright things in the present you're living in. But you can also chose not to, and the choice is ultimately yours, Bonggu."
"How am I supposed to right it?" Bonggu demands, "I screwed this up. Jonghui's ignoring me. If she tells Yejun, he's going to murder me. Where in this equation do I have a chance to fix what I did? I don't even know why I did what I did."
"Do you really not know?" Eunho asks. "Ask yourself, don't tell me. Do you really not know?"
Bonggu thinks of Jonghui, kneeling in front of her mother's grave with the blue and white flowers, hands clasped and eyes closed.Because if the person really mattered to you, they'd leave imprints on you and your life that nothing can erase.He's not sure why that one sentence of hers suddenly stands out to him at such a moment, and he's not sure if he reallyknowswhat Eunho is talking about or if he doesn't, but mutely, he shakes his head at the other, finally.
Eunho lets out a noise that's close to a scoff. "You don't," he says incredulously. "Really, Bonggu?"
"I—" Bonggu starts, but then the door of the apartment creaks open. He's quick to glance beside him at Eunho, but somehow, the other has already disappeared.
The living room is a separated from the entrance by a wall, and Bonggu has to peek over to see. Yejun is tucking his house keys into his pocket, expression weary as he shuts the door behind him. He's alone, Jonghui nowhere to be seen. His hair is wet, and the blue umbrella that he had taken with him is nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Jonghui?" Bonggu asks slowly.
The entrance leads into two rooms: the living room, and the kitchen. Bonggu watches as Yejun peers into the kitchen.
"Huh," he says, "You managed to do the dishes on your own without breaking anything."
"Yeah," Bonggu returns dryly. "I've been doing them for months. It'd be a surprise if I didn't know. Where's Jonghui?"
"Why do you care?" Yejun asks in a low voice.
Bonggu does a double take at him. "Because she's—" he breaks off in the middle of his own sentence, all of a sudden unsure what to say.
"Because she's what?" Yejun prompts, "What?"
Silence has never been so loud. Bonggu stares at Yejun, half pondering the question and half wondering if Jonghui had told her brother. "Because it's weird that you came back without her, that's all."
"Then why did you kiss her?"
For a moment, no one moves or speaks, and Bonggu freezes in both shock and slight terror. Strangely, the first thing that comes to mind is,Why did I?Finally, he manages, "Is she okay?"
Yejun slouches, shrugging off his coat. It's also speckled with raindrops, and though the storm isn't nearly as bad as it was before, he's still soaked from the rain. It's hard to think that a day ago, around the same time, they'd all been soaked too, but from playing in the ocean. It's so different — rain is so cold, so… Bonggu doesn't even have the right words for it, but the fist of pain is still there around his chest, clenching relentlessly.
The couch dips when Yejun joins him on it. "Even an idiot can tell you like her, so I don't understand why you can't. And I can definitely tell that you're sulking and sad about the fact that she's ignoring you after you kissed her, am I right?"
"I—" Bonggu starts, but the words catch in his throat and he can't quite get them out. "I… I don't…"
"There's a Chinese character that I learned a couple years back," Yejun interrupts, "It's pronouncedrěn."
The language is foreign sounding, but Bonggu knows it's Chinese because he often hears Yejun conversing on the phone with people in Chinese (and because Yejun said it was Chinese). "Why are you telling me this?" he asks.
Yejun continues on as if he hasn't heard. "It's written with arènon top, which means blade, and axīnon the bottom, which means heart. Do you know the word means?"
"I don't understand where you're getting at."
"It means to bear, or to endure. And to bear and to endure is like a blade over one's heart, because ithurts.I'm telling you this because my sister isn't ignoring you out of spite, nor is it because she doesn't like you. You know, that reallywouldbe easier. Because as much as it's hurting you, it's hurting her more."
Bonggu shakes his head. "I don't understand."
Yejun shuts his eyes. All the while before, he's never hit Bonggu as the sort of person to make a huge deal out of anything, to dramatize events, or anything. In fact, Nam Yejun rarely shows any vulnerable sort of emotion.
It's all there, then, however. "I really don't know how to say this but in this way," Yejun says. His voice is quiet, unlike the Yejun Bonggu is accustomed to. "But Jonghui… Jonghui…"
"What?" Bonggu snaps, more out of frustration and fear than anything else. "Just tell me."
"She's sick," Yejun mumbles. "And she might not be able to make it even up to October. So here, Bonggu." He turns to look at him with solemn eyes. "If you've ever wondered why, now you know."
Yejun's words buzz in Bonggu ears. He can barely hear him say the rest, and the hand around his heart clenches so hard that Bonggu's afraid it's going to shatter.
Chapter 13
XII
Bittersweet
Bonggu's first response is to laugh.
It's strange, like listening to someone else's voice through a glass wall, muffled, robotic, without a hint of any genuine emotion. But it's the only thing that he can manage anyways.
"October," he exclaims incredulously, but the words are still hard to get out. "That's a dumb joke. She's sick? Are you kidding me?"
Yejun's eyebrows knit together. "Does it look like I'm joking?"
No,he thinks, but the words don't come out because it seems to be better if he tells himself Yejun is joking. Because… it can't be possible. Itisn'tpossible.
"You're joking," Bonggu repeats dumbly, but he sounds stupid to himself. Nevertheless, he shakes his one more time at Yejun and stands up abruptly from the couch. "That's ridiculous. Why would she…"
He thinks of the calendar.Why does it only go up to October?he'd asked her, and Jonghui hadn't really answered his question. There were many subjects she avoided, but… Bonggu did too. He had assumed it was because she didn't want to or didn't trust him enough to tell him, and though it was somewhat hurtful at times… "That can't be real."
"Stop," Yejun says, shaking his head. "You're making it worse."
"Then why didn't you tell me before?" Bonggu shoots back, "You're telling me now that she's going to die in October? It's August, for God's sake!"
"Then what was I supposed to do?" Yejun's voice is rising, in a way that Bonggu's never heard before. In fact, Yejun is rarely like this. And it's scary in a way, because it makes everything more real. And Bonggu doesn't want it to be real, so he shakes his head again. "You're lying."
"I'm lying," the other echoes, "Is that really what you have to say? Does it look like I'm lying to you?"
No,Bonggu wants to say, but the words don't come out either. His vision seems to blur, and everything around him is a mess of colors. He can barely concentrate on Yejun's face because of how much his head seems to be spinning.Jonghui?Impossible.
Impossible.
Improbable.
Possible.
Probable.
They're vitamins,she'd informed him quickly.
He stands up on shaky feet. "What's wrong with her, then? Why are you telling me this just now? Doesn't that seem to be some sort of cruel joke on me? I tell you that I like her, and you tell me she's not going to live over two months. Really, Nam Yejun?"
"Stage four non-small cell lung cancer," Yejun says, robotically, as if something's he's memorized because he's heard it so much. "The doctors said—"
"She'stwenty five,"Bonggu says, though Yejun's words are still taking their time to sink in. It's impossible. She should be healthy at such an age. She doesn't smoke. She… it doesn't makesense.As far as Bonggu knows, itshouldn'tbe happening to her.
"Don't you think that makes it all worse?" Yejun exclaims, standing up from the couch this time so he's face to face with Bonggu. He's breathing hard, eyes livid and burning with a sort of emotion that Bonggu can't tell. "Jonghui said she took you to visit our mother. Do you know whyshedied? There's a history of it on my mom's side of the family, and even though Jonghui…"
He trails off then, blinking furiously. "And do you know how much it scares her because she's probably going todiein two months? She's keeping all this to herself because she doesn't want to hurtyoubut in turn she's hurting herself. No matter how cheerful she tries to be around you, Chae Bonggu…" He breaks off, shaking his head, "And now—"
He breaks off. Then, abruptly, he turns away. Bonggu's too shocked to move, but Yejun snatches up the umbrella from the side where he had set it to dry and pulled on his coat again. "Forget it. I don't want to deal with you right now."
Bonggu stands still in the middle of the room, and the front door slams shut loudly behind Yejun. The sound seems to echo endlessly in the silence, and even with the other gone, he stands in shock in the middle of the room as the rest of the world seems to collapse around him.
The clock in the kitchen reads a bit over seven o'clock, and Yejun is still nowhere to be seen. Bonggu watches listlessly as the sun begins to dip. It's odd to think that's it's only been a day since he and Jonghui had walked down the shore, sand underneath bare feet and the ocean lapping at their heels. She's gone at the moment, and instead of the sun disappearing behind a clear horizon, towering skyscrapers block the horizon. The cityscape is nothing compared to the ocean, and Bonggu wishes that somehow the day at the ocean would repeat forever, when everything was perfect and happy.
Because it should be impossible. Something so unfair can't be real. Because if she's going to die in the end, what is the point ofherbeing the person that found him? There's no answers to all the questions, and, frustrated, Bonggu glances out the window again. It hurts, but on the other hand, he's too numb to feel anything. He thinks back to her calendar he saw — it had only gone up to October. She's hidden it from him ever since he asked her about it the first time, but now it comes back to mind, and the worst part is that it makes sense. He still can't quite understand why she choose to mark the days off one by one — that made it seem all the more scary — but everything else… makes sense in a scary sort of way.
The kitchen is getting dark, but Bonggu doesn't have the heart to turn on the light switch either. The only thing he can do is stare outside, the wordsit's not truerepeating through his head, but the only thing he can think about is the fact that itistrue.
It's not true. It can't be happening. It's unfair. It's…
Bonggu thinks of the downcast look on her face as she tells him she'll celebrate his birthday with him on December 31st, the way her hands are pressed together when she made a wish on her birthday. It all adds up, but still, he wishes for it not to be true.
Yejun's voice also repeats through his head, the robotic tone, simply repeating something he'd heard one too many times.Stage four non-small cell lung cancer. And do you know how much it scares her because she's probably going to die in two months?
The front door clicks open. For a moment, something tells him it's Jonghui, and he perks up immediately. Then Yejun steps through, the blue umbrella scattering raindrops everywhere, and Bonggu slouches back into the chair.
The clock in the kitchen blinks in the dim room.7: 29.It's been hours since Yejun left, and Bonggu's unsure of how long it's been since he's moved from his position at the kitchen table. He squints at Yejun.
"Why is it so dark?" he asks.
"Where's Jonghui?" he says instead.
"I told you. She's spending the night with Noah and Hamin and I thought it would be better for her if she stayed there."
There's a moment of silence. Even bringing up Jonghui's name feels hard. The fact that isn't here brings a ridiculous sense of fear to Bonggu that she's already gone, and hehatesit. It's so unneeded and irrational, yet still, he's afraid. It's different to think back to past events too — they're still the same memories, but for the some reason, he can only see them in a new, less bright light.
"How many hours have you sat there and moped?" Yejun finally asks, reaching over and flicking on the light. "You didn't even bother turning on the lights. I didn't know you could sit still for so long."
Bonggu stares listlessly at Yejun. He almost wishes now that Yejun hadn't told him such a thing. Everything makes sense now, but remaining oblivious seemed to be a better solution. Perhaps he would've gotten to return before October and wouldn't have to experience any pain.If only I hadn't kissed her.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
Yejun gives a sigh. "Do you think it's easy for her to tell you? She's strictly kept to herself and kept distance from her friends ever since she found out, and all of a sudden, you barged in. Where in all of this was there a good time to tell you? When is itevera good time to inform someone that you're going to pass away in a couple of months?"
"Still," Bonggu says, but the words sound selfish to himself. He's thinking of Jonghui, but the words that come out all seem to be about himself. "Still.Why did she tell me now, when I…" He can't seem to get the sentence out, and a hoarse, mirthless laugh is what replaces it. "Why didn't she send me away?"
"Why didn't youleave?" Yejun snaps back. He slips off his shoes then, and steps into the kitchen. "Do you think she planned any of this?"
Bonggu glances out the window. The buildings still obscure the sun from sight, though the rays of light peek out from behind.Sunrises get brighter. Sunsets only get darker.
For some reason, he can see the difference now. "Do you thinkIplanned any of this either?"
There's a moment of silence, and then Yejun reaches out and drops a white plastic bag onto the table. It lands with a thunk that shouldn't be loud, but for some reason, sounds incredibly so. "I bought takeout, since neither of us can really cook."
Bonggu stares at his food. He has no appetite, and Yejun looks the same.
"Let's eat," Yejun says a little more forcefully. "It doesn't mean we're done talking about all of this either."
The food isn't extremely warm when they eat from the styrofoam boxes, and Bonggu wonders how long it's been since Yejun bought it. Absentmindedly, he spins a noodle around the chopstick, but he doesn't feel like eating it. The thought of eating is nauseating, and part of him wants to see Jonghui and the other part of him dreads it.
"Where did you go?" he questions Yejun.
"What?" he says back around an atrociously large mouthful. He doesn'tlooklike hewantsto eat, but like he's… forcing himself to eat. "I went to see my sister. It took a while because Noah and Hamin live quite a bit away from here."
His heart skips a beat at 'my sister',but Bonggu tries to ignore it. "And?"
"I went to talk to her about a couple things."
"Why did you come back here, then?"
"I'm going to talk to you about a couple of things."
Bonggu has no idea where the whole conversation is going, because he's pretty sure Yejun left because he was mad and not because he had in mind talking to Jonghui. And he doesn't want a reminder of her either; it hurts too much to think about it. He can't exactlypretendit didn't happen or even ignore it, but bringing up Jonghui each timehurts."About what?" he asks.
"About you two."
For a moment, his hand refuses to move. Finally, he manages to set down his chopstick and look up at Yejun fully, who's still stuffing noodles into his mouth. "What is there to talk about, even?"
"A lot."
Bonggu doesn't eat anymore but watches impatiently as Yejun chews and swallows then reaches for his napkin beside him. Finally, after an almost unbearable amount of time, he says, "Me telling you this doesn't mean you don't like her anymore, am I right?"
Part of him wants to reject, but there's nowhere else for him to go and denying would be lying. Besides, it's painfully obvious, even to himself. "No."
"What do you think the best solution is, then?"
Bonggu blinks. He can't help but think back every single time to the day at the beach, when everything had been perfect and happy and the world seemed to be spinning right. Right now, it has stopped. "Do you thinkIhave a solution?"
"If you're planning on going on like nothing's happened like my sister was going to do, then no, you obviously don't have a solution. What are you going to do now?"
What am I going to do now?
Briefly, Bonggu wonders if he can go back. But the thought is fleeting, because turning back in such a moment doesn't feel right. "I don't know," he admits.Not knowing —the feeling of not knowing — is terrible, and it claws at his chest and constricts his throat, especially when he thinks of Jonghui. But all his solutions seem useless, getting worse one by one.
"I'll tell you right now that she also likes you. What are you going to do now?" Yejun continues to press, though the words barely sink in.
"I don't know," Bonggu repeats.
"Are you scared?" Yejun continues, and though Bonggu halfheartedly wishes he could drown Yejun's voice out, he's too exhausted to even shake his head (but even if hedoesdeny it, he knows he's lying to himself and Yejun probably knows it too). "Because she won't longer be here in a couple months? Does that scare you at all?"
"A lot." Something snaps, and his voice rises. "It hurts a lot, especially when it's now that you've told me. Everything is complicated enoughwithoutthis, but if she's going to begonein two months—" the words are bitter and Bonggu can barely get them out, "—I don't even know what to do."
"I asked her when I went over. What she was going to do now. She had the same response as you initially."
Bonggu can't quite imagine what other response there is, because every single choice will only lead down the steep downward hill he's already going down. There's no way he can turn back, not now, but he can also stop himself from digging a deeper hole of pain for himself when October does come.
"Trying to ignore it and pretend nothing happened and pass by this won't help," Yejun adds, almost as if he can tell exactly what Bonggu is thinking, "If you ignore it all, you'll live with a lifetime of regret."
"It's just going to be more painful."
"Do you think it'll be easier to live with the pain, or have the regret follow you for the rest of your life for something you could've done but didn't do? I know it's hard to think of now because it's hard formeto think of too, but someday, all of this will be a distant past. And maybe while one day you'll have forgotten what Jonghui and I look like or what we've done in these couple of months, the memories will still never be gone. Because I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. There's guaranteed to be pain, but that won't be all there is. So cherish the happy moments while you can, because it's those feelings are the ones that are going to stay with you forever."
Bonggu stares at Yejun. There's an odd resemblance between him and Eunho at the moment, though he can't pinpoint what. Finally, he manages in a small voice, "Why are you telling me all of this? You used to hate me."
"Because I think my sister has the obligation to be happy these last couple months," he replies simply, "She's been keeping the truth from you for your sake, but now it's out, are you willing to take a step forward for hers?" There's a pause. "And it's not Jonghui. You too, Bonggu. You also have a right to be happy, don't you think?"
For once, Bonggu's at a complete loss for words. A while of silence passes — he's not exactly sure how long — until he gets out, "What am I supposed to do?"
In a split second, the Yejun Bonggu is accustomed to comes back. He rolls his eyes. "What do you think? Ask her out next morning when she comes back. On a date."
When Bonggu wakes up the next morning, the alarm clock next to his bed reads 8: 58, and he jolts upwards. He normally doesn't sleep for so long, but for some reason, he still feels exhausted. Sluggishly, he slides off the bed and fumbles for his clothing.
Outside his door, he can hear faint voices talking. He can recognize Jonghui's, and the other has to be Yejun's. For a moment, he sits motionlessly on the bed, unsure of what to do.
The conversation with Yejun the last night sinks back in, but the more Bonggu thinks about it, the more unsure he feels. Because while what Yejun had said might've been right, getting closer to Jonghui — which was bound to happen — was just going to bring pain, and Bonggu wasn't sure if that was really what he wanted. But according to Yejun, acting as if nothing happened would bring regret, too.If you ignore it all, you'll live with a lifetime of regret.Does that still apply to him as an angel? Was it going to follow him back when he returned, continuing to haunt him because of something he could've done but never did?Because I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
Hadn't he forgotten before? He'd been able to completely forget what happened in his previous lifetime for whatever reason it was, hadn't he?
Or have I?
The memories were gone. Supposedly, the feelings were too — that was why he'd been sent down. But still…
The undeniable pain from Yejun's words was still there. Had that been something from then, because of Jonghui, because of the present, or was it a remnant from the past, something he could never quite forget?
For a moment, Bonggu stands still in the middle of the room, thoughts whirling. Then, after a moment of indecision, he pulls on the blue shirt folded in the corner of the room and a pair of pants and heads out.
The voices are coming from the kitchen, so slowly, he heads in the direction. Jonghui is standing over the stove, cooking something, and Yejun is sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs, chin in his hands, though Bonggu can't hear what they're talking about over the loudness of the exhaust fan. His expression is serious, but it does a 180 degree turn when it lands on Bonggu.
"I'm going to go to the washroom," he tells Jonghui, and stands up from his chair. "Good morning, Bonggu."
Bonggu catches Yejun's eye for a split second. "Do it," he says in a low voice when he passes, and Bonggu translates it intodo it, or else.
The bathroom door clicks shut, and Bonggu takes a step into the kitchen and finally looks at Jonghui.
Her hair is tied in a bun at the top of her head, and there's water boiling at the stove. For a moment, the only sound is the exhaust fan's whirling. Looking at her is painful, and Bonggu can't help but be reminded that it'll be until October that he'll see her. The thought is so impossible but makes a strange sort of sense at the same time, and he can barely bear it.
"I—" he starts, and simultaneously, Jonghui says, "I know—"
Both pause. Finally, she nods at him. "You go first," she says in a quiet voice.
"You can go first."
"No, you go first."
Bonggu hesitates for a minute. He's not exactly sure what he's supposed to do because Yejun's instructions are vague and he's still internally questioning himself, andask her on a dateseems to be too simple a thing to do in such a complex situation. There's so many things that are wrong with it all (and most of all, he doesn'tknowhow to ask someone out on a date and he barely knows half of human customs and he's not sure what they're supposed todoon a date), but nevertheless, he forces a wavery smile on his face.
"Go on a date with me," Bonggu manages (and miraculously, manages to keep his cool at the same time).
He can't read Jonghui's expression well. At first, she looks like she's almost in shock, and then it turns into what he reads at pain. Finally, she mirrors his half-smile. "Alright," she says, but it sounds more like an odd sort of reassurance to herself than an acception. "Alright."
Chapter 14
XIV
Regret
"So?" Yejun asks. "Did you do it?"
Jonghui's quiet response was in no way a rejection (at least not as much as last time), but it still had felt a bit… well, it wasn't as he'd imagined anyways. Bonggu stands still for a moment, unsure of what to say becausehe did,but he's not too sure what he's going to do next. There's no date set, he doesn't know where to go, and he doesn't know if he's ready to do so either. "Yeah," he says tentatively. "Yeah, I did. And she said yes."
Something very close to a genuine smileat himcreeps onto Yejun's face. "And? What's wrong now?"
Apart from the fact that she's going to die in October, probably, but that's the largest thing that's wrong."I don't know where to go," Bonggu says, pushing his thoughts to the back of his head. They're less painful if he doesn't dwell on them. "And I don't have anything to wear too. I don't think I should be wearing your clothing if I take her on a date. And I'm supposed to pay for it becauseI'mthe one taking her on a date and Ican'tpay for it because I have no money."
Yejun shrugs. "You've done the hardest part anyways."
"Hardest part?"
"The most nerve wracking part is when you actuallyaskthe person. Trust me, I know."
Bonggu thinks of Eunho's bright golden jacket. "Messing up the outfit can be disastrous too."
Yejun opens his mouth as if he's apart to say something else, but then thinks better of it and shakes his head. "Anyways, I can deal with the clothing, at least. And do some research on where you're going to bring her. I can help you with it, but it's going to be your choice ultimately. You have to take responsibility for this too."
"Who said I'm not going to?" Bonggu grumbles, "Okay, so…"
"You can take her on Saturday," Yejun exclaims cheerfully.
Bonggu is about the mumble his agreement when it hits him that it's currentlyThursdayand Saturday is less than two days away. "Saturday?" he demands, "That's… that's too early."
Yejun gives him a disapproving day. "Do you need a week to think about what you're going to do? Make up your mind and just do it."
It's late that evening and Jonghui has gone to bed early when Yejun sits down with Bonggu in the kitchen. It's odd seeing her take her pills and Bonggu tries to ignore the ache in his heart when he sees her — it's unthinkable for him, unbearable and something he doesn't want to dwell on but can'thelpbut dwell on — though she's gone not long afterwards after bidding him and her brother goodnight. Bonggu ends up leaning over Yejun's shoulder as he browses places to go on a date on his laptop.
"Areyouever going to date someone?" Bonggu asks, "Or are you planning to remain forever alone?"
Yejun lets out ahmph."I bet I'd be dating someone if Iwantedto," he says, then types in 'good places to go on a date'into the searchbar.
Bonggu peers at his laptop. "Good places to go on a date," he reads, "Are you sure you'd be dating someone if you wanted to?"
Yejun glares at him. "Well, if you're so smart, do you have any suggestions?"
Bonggu hesitates. He's not exactly sure what Jonghui likes — she's never been the aggressive type of person — soft spoken, gentle yet firm when she has to be. She likes to write, he knows. She likes sunsets. She…
"An art gallery," he blurts, "It's quiet there and she won't have to walk much either."
Yejun looks impressed for an instance, but then he hides the look and nods slowly. "I guess that would work," he says. "I'll search up a couple and see which one you guys should go to. And I think… I think I have a suitable dress-up for you on Saturday. This might actually go well."
"What do you mean by that?" Bonggu demands, but Yejun just grins at him.
It's weird how far I've gone,Bonggu thinks absently to himself as he pulls on the long, dark blue colored coat from Yejun. He's dressed up fancier than he's ever has (and he looksa lotbetter than Eunho had wearing the bright gold jacket), but his hands are also trembling inside his sleeves for some odd reason.
He hasn't seem Jonghui much the past day — Yejun took her out to eat for lunch, leaving him alone and trying to figure out how to microwave leftovers without blowing something up. Friday had been relatively peaceful outwardly, but Bonggu had spent a good half of the day panicking inwardly. And now, it's Saturday morning and he's not only panicking inwardly but outwardly also.
He's checked the bus schedule to Leeum Samsung Art Museum and memorized the bus times and the routes thoroughly (to the point where he can probably say them in his sleep). Bonggu's not sure if what he's feeling is called nervousness anymore or if there's another word to describe the sheer amount of nervousness he's feeling.
Three months ago, Jonghui had found him in the back alley of her house when she was throwing out garbage. Three months ago… everything had felt so different.
Bonggu takes a deep breath and pushes open the door of his room. The house is rather quiet, and he hears Jonghui and Yejun talking outside. He enters the living room just in time to see Yejun bidding his sister goodbye, and before the door closes behind him, he manages to catch Bonggu's eye. Then the door closes, and Jonghui turns to look at him.
They haven't talked much on Friday — in fact, since he'd asked her out. Now, she stands in the middle of the living room, looking at him with her lips pressed together. Throughout the months, the tilt of her lip corners seem less like an always-present smile to Bonggu and something else that's just… her.
For a little while, Bonggu just stares at her — she looks pretty (and very, very small, but she always looks small) with her hair in two braids down her side and a plaid dress. It's a very simple get-up and his looks fancier compared to it, but with the cream colored coat in her hand, he can't really imagine Jonghui wearing any better of an outfit. It's soher.
"You look nice," he offers tentatively.
This time, Jonghui's lips pull upwards into a real smile. "Do I? Last time you only complimented the color of my dress."
Bonggu flushes and tries to keep his composure. "Does it make you feel better if I tell you the dress looks nice?"
"No."
He decides to drop the conversation at that and walks towards her. "Let's go, then."
Jonghui pulls on her coat. It stands out against his own, a dark, navy blue while hers is almost white. It matches oddly will with the red and black of her dress that peaks out of the ends of the coat. She buttons it up ("It may be August, but it's still cool in the mornings and I don't like being cold") to the top.
Bonggu leaves his own hanging open and they both slip on shoes before leaving the house too.
Jonghui's the one with the keys and she also locks the door behind them before turning to him, smiling again. "Where are we going, then?"
"Leeum Samsung Art Museum," Bonggu recites, "We'll be taking the 48 bus for five stops and then it'll—"
Jonghui laughs. "Did you memorize it?"
Bonggu glances at her. He can't really tell what she's thinking, or if memorizing it is a good thing or a bad thing, so he just nods. "Getting lost would be disastrous."
"I have a phone. If we did get lost, we could ask for instructions or search it up."
"I'm beingprepared," Bonggu shoots back, and then they're on the elevator heading downstairs.
They walk in silence for a little while towards the bus stop, with neither of them speaking. Jonghui's footsteps are quiet against the pavement, and the morning air is crisp and cool for a August morning. And for a Saturday, the streets are oddly empty. Cars rush by once in a while, carrying a gust of wind with them. There are little people in the streets — perhaps it's because it's so early — and after a moment of hesitation, Bonggu offers his arm to Jonghui.
She laughs at him. "So formal." But she takes it anyways, and they head towards the bus stop arm in arm, veiled by silence.
The 48 comes not long after, and Bonggu and Jonghui find a seat in the back of the bus, where it's quiet and away from the people in the front. Jonghui swings her legs, hands tapping against her coat.
Bonggu's not sure what prompts him to do it, but a moment later, he reaches over and presses a hand over hers. Her fingers still, and she gives him a confused look. "You're nervous," he says, "It's really obvious."
Jonghui opens her mouth to say something, but then seems to think better of it and snaps her mouth shut. After a moment of hesitation, Bonggu doesn't take his hand away from hers.
He counts the stops as the bus picks up other people. Sometime along the way, Jonghui drifts off, head falling against his shoulder. It messes up the braids she's done, but Bonggu doesn't mind anyways (not that he'd ever say it out loud, but she looks nice with her hair in braids and with her hair down). When they're nearing the stop they have to get off and transfer, he shakes her awake.
Jonghui blinks at him, obviously still sleepy. Bonggu drags her off the bus.
The stop is empty, and they take a seat on the chairs. Jonghui takes her water bottle from her bag and takes a long drink.
Bonggu takes the moment to look at her again. Her braids are messy though she doesn't seem to have noticed (which is sort of amusing), and she's staring out into the distance. He thinks of Junseo, the boy that Jonghui had met in the flower shop. That had been so long ago.
"You know," Jonghui says, "You still haven't told me much about yourself. Even after all this time."
"I don't know too much about you either. I mean…"Maybe I know too much about what I don't want to know."Your hobbies. What you used to do. You like writing, you like reading, you're good at cooking, you have a good taste in flowers…"
Jonghui laughs at the last part. "Well, you're right. I do like writing and reading. Cooking… is just something I have to do, because Yejun would burn the apartment down if he were allowed to cook. I used to be in medical school before… well, I found out that I was sick. My mom actually died from cancer but I didn't think… well…" She blinks at her hands. "She was over forty. I was only…"
For a moment, neither of say anything, and then Jonghui straightens up and tucks her water bottle back into her bag. "Anyways, I used to be in medical school. Yeah."
The reminder is painful and Bonggu has been refusing to dwell upon (or eventhink)about it the past few days, so he chooses to focus on Jonghui's other words (though it's not a very effective distraction and it doesn't help with the ache in his chest). "Why do I never see you go out with friends? There's Hamin and Noah and Haejun, but apart from them… you're mostly at home, right?"
"I don't think it's fair to make a lot of friends," she admits, swinging her legs beneath her. "I don't think it's fair to have a lot of people around me because it just…" Her fingers are tapping against her legs again, and Bonggu doesn't stop her this time. "My brother can'tnotknow, but it's obvious how much he's hurt by it and apart from family members, I don't think it's fair to other people. But Hamin and Noah are my friends too."
"Isn't it lonely?"
"Is it lonely?" she echoes. "Well…" She bites her lip. "You know, when I first met you and you asked me if I wanted anything from you in return for helping you… I guess I wanted to be selfish just that one time. I thought that you'd leave in a while, and yes, itwaslonely and that's why I wanted you to say. So I guess… I guess I did want something from you. It was selfish because I didn't want anyone to get hurt because of me, but I assumed that you'd leave without ever knowing so I never told you but then…" She shook her head. "I never imagined it'd end like this. It still ended the way I tried to avoid. I'm really sorry."
"Did it really?" he asks, but Jonghui doesn't respond.
Three months ago, Bonggu might've felt angry about her words. She lied to him —shehadwanted something from him and she said she didn't but now, looking back, it's just… sad. Everything seems sad, washed in melancholy. He can't blame her for doing what she's done as much as he can blame her for not telling him.Sorry doesn't cut it,he would've said before.
"You don't need to be sorry," he says instead, and in his peripheral vision, he sees the bus cut the corner and head towards them. "None of this is your fault anyways, and I'm the one who's intruded into your life. And it's not a bad thing that I met you, either."
"I can't help but wonder if this is the right thing," Jonghui muses out loud. She doesn't meet his eye. "My brother talked to me, but is it… for you… is it really worth the pain?"
Do you think it'll be easier to live with the pain, or have the regret follow you for the rest of your life for something you could've done but didn't do?It's all blurry now, what he's supposed to accomplish on earth. And while his memories as an angel are no longer hard to recall, Bonggu doesn't find himself looking back. The millenias of memories of his life as an angel are dim compared to the short three months with Yejun and Jonghui, and he wonders if that's what Yejun meant.
"Nothing really comes easy," he replies. "But for now, yes, I think it is worth the pain."
The bus pulls up, and both of them stand up. Then they board the bus in silence, and while he had sounded sure of himself when he said it, Bonggu contemplates her words.Is it really worth the pain?
I hope so,he thinks.
Bonggu's not sure what to expect for a date (because he's never been on one), but Leeum Samsung Art Museum is extremely empty and there's very little people. Jonghui's braids are undone by now (she noticed how messy they were sometime along the bus ride there) and she has taken off her cream colored coat.
They spend most of the day browsing through the paintings and sculptures, and stopping by at a cafe inside the museum to grab drinks and sandwiches for lunch. In the afternoon, it's not just Jonghui that's tired but Bonggu is too, and the two of them collapse on the bench.
Walking through the museum had been warmer than he'd expected (and besides, it was August and the weather wouldn't stay cool), and both of them had taken off their coats. Bonggu had offered to take Jonghui's, but she turned down the offer before he even finished the sentence.
Now she sips water from the clear water bottle, gaze fixed on the picture in front of them. Bonggu hasn't paidtoomuch attention to the art like Jonghui has because it doesn't interest him as much, but when he follows her gaze to the painting, it's one of an angel, wings unfurling from it's back.
"That's pretty," Jonghui murmurs, and Bonggu tries to mask any feelings of shock.
The angel's face is obscured, head covered by golden curls followed by the white wings. It's not too inaccurate of a portrayal per say.
"It's okay," he says carefully, but if Jonghui notices his hesitance, she ignores it.
"I wonder if angels really exist," she muses, half to herself, and Bonggu stares down at his lap. "Do you think they do? That each person has a guardian angel?"
Bonggu hesitates. "I'm not sure."
Guardian angels don't exactly exist,he thinks to himself, but he doesn't say it,But… technically angels… I…
He cuts the train of thought off, glancing at the painting of the angel again. It's a very nice painting, but it brings a squeeze to his chest that he'd very much rather ignore, so he turns back to look at Jonghui.
It's not too late in the afternoon, but they've probably gone through the whole museum. Bonggu stands up and (after a moment of hesitance) offers him hand to Jonghui. She, unlike him, doesn't hesitate and lets him pull her up. "Let's go for dinner," Bonggu says, "Your brother and I looked for a couple of restaurants and I know how to bus there from here, so let's go."
They don't end up choosing any restaurant.
Jonghui spots an ice cream shop soon after they leave the museum, and it's pretty hot by then so they head towards it. They come out a couple minutes later with strawberry and vanilla ice cream, one without a cone and one with, respectively. Bonggu spoons his from the cup (he doesn't like ice cream cones, he finds out — they're too messy and he prefers just having the ice cream and not the waffle), and Jonghui has a simple cone. It's sticking and she's trying to eat it before it melts and goes everywhere, especially her fingers.
They sit on the bench, Jonghui, like always, swinging her legs and finishing their ice creams. She doesn't want to go to a restaurant for dinner because it's too early and neither of them are hungry, so they walk down the streets on the shaded side, where the sun isn't too hot or unbearable.
"You know," Jonghui says, kicking a pebble onto the road. "This is a weird date."
Bonggu glances at her, trying to mask the hurt from her words. "How?"
"It's not a bad thing," she adds quickly. "It's just… weird. I didn't expect it would be like this, but that doesn't mean it's not nice."
"Oh? What did you expect it to be like?"
Jonghui shrugs. "I didn't think I'd go on a date with you."
Bonggu can't tell if that's just the harmless truth or if he's supposed to be insulted by that, so he chooses to ignore it. "Well, you are now."
She lets out a quiet laugh, but for some reason, it's sort of sad too.
They spend the rest of the afternoon walking through the streets, stopping by the buy cold drinks once at a cafe. Bonggu chooses to dwell on the moment, the laughter shared with Jonghui, because it's all a lot easier to think of the future. She smiles too, eyes bright, and Bonggu hopes that the afternoon can last forever.
It doesn't. It's seven o'clock when they reach the park Jonghui has been talking about (because there's a bus near the park that goes straight to their house, and it's easier that way), and by seven fifteen they're resting on one of the benches that sits on a hill which overlooks the whole park. It's quiet compared to the rest of Seoul.
The sun is still bright because it's August, though it's showing signs of moving downwards. They sit in silence in the park, a green, leafy haven secluded from the rest of the grey city and tall skyscrapers.
"That was a nice day," Jonghui says, and Bonggu can almost hear the rest of her words (or perhaps they're the words he wants to say).But too bad it's over.
"Was it?" he asks, though the teasing tone seems half hearted too.
"We should go again some other time. You were really nice to me today, and that's new."
"I'm always nice."
She lets out a noise of disagreement, then turns to look out at the park again. There's a man walking his dog across the field, throwing something for the dog to catch. A soft breeze has begun to pick up.
For a moment, Bonggu wishes that he doesn't have to back, and Jonghui's perfectly healthy. If everyday, every month, every year can be like the three months he's experienced, then he'd gladly give up being an angel. If only…
He shakes his head.If only'swere only going to make it hurt more.
"Bonggu," Jonghui says again, turning towards him.
It's going to hurt more, but one day, you'll have to live with the regret of something youcould'vedone but never did.
He leans forward then, and this time, Jonghui doesn't resist. Bonggu doesn't think, just moves — tilting her chin up with a hand as gently as he can because he's scared that if he applies too much force she'll shatter or disappear — and this time, Jonghui responds, hands curling around a fistful of his shirt.
There's still a hint of the drink she had — aloe vera — and Bonggu lifts her chin up even more.
She feels so real, sotherein his arms and he wishes that the moment — the day — will last forever.
But it doesn't, and it can't. And even as he kisses her, there's a small nagging voice in the back of his head.August 17th,it whispers.It's already August 17th.
Chapter 15
XIV
Restlessness
For what seems like the first time, Bonggu starts actively hoping that time doesn't pass so fast.
It's almost close to pathetic when he thinks about it. He spends the days with Jonghui — they go walking in the sunrise sometimes, early in the morning (even though Bonggu hates getting up early), he helps her cook (even though he can't cook), and just… spend time together. It's nice, almost too nice, as if they're both ignoring the reality. And while doing that is dangerous, it's better than spending the day fearing what's going to happen next and worry needlessly about something he cannot change.
But it's also a constant reminder that never lets Bonggu forget. Jonghui sleeps early, wakes up later, seems even more tired day by day. She's increased the dosage of her pills, and while she still does it quickly and when she thinks he's not looking, Bonggu still can't help but see it. And the reminder is painful, a sharp jab into a wound that hadn't quite closed in the first place.
He's not sure how time has passed so quickly. Wasn't it May a couple days ago, when he had a raging fever? It's very obvious that Jonghui is the one that is sick now, not him. Wasn't it yesterday that Jonghui had ran into his room, out of breath and panicking about her brother returning? She doesn't seem to have the energy to run anymore.
Jonghui doesn't write as much as she had before anymore. Bonggu doesn't know why, he doesn't ask her why, but her laptop remains untouched on the desk. And despite being around him almost all the time that they're home, her gaze is distant at times, and she looks very vulnerable. Frightened. Not that Bonggu can blame her for it, but it scares him too. Too much to even think about.
Yejun is at home more often than before. When Bonggu asks him why, the only answer he gets is a grim smile, and, "I want to spend time with her too."
Every small thing is a hammer that strikes on the nail of dread that has dug its way into his heart deeper, and no matter how small it is, it hurts.
Bonggu often wonders to himself why. Had it all been a coincidence that Jonghui had found him? Had their meeting been a coincidence, something that happened because of chance? If he'd fallen a little while later, then she wouldn't have met him. If she'd decided to throw out the trash ten minutes before, they would've missed each other. So was their meeting really just a series of coincidences that managed to land them together? Or is it really fate? Bonggu isn't sure if he believed in fate anymore.
He wants to ask Eunho about it, but Eunho's visits are less frequent, too. Sometimes, he thinks that he can see the blur of silver and gold outside his window again, but when Bonggu rushes to the glass to look for the other, there's nothing but the grey, towering buildings of Seoul.
"Why do you stay here?" Bonggu asks Jonghui one day. He's almost as alert to the date as she is. He checks it constantly and counts —August 18th, 19th, 24th, 31st, September 1st —and Jonghui seems to get more tired and smaller before his eyes, day by day. "Wouldn't it… wouldn't it be better if you went to the hospital?"
She coughs slightly. "I want to stay here. I can't see you or Yejun a lot if I stay at the hospital, and besides…" Her words dissolve into another fit of coughing, and all of a sudden, Bonggu is even more afraid. "Besides, I just… I just wanted to spend the rest of the time with you guys. Around the people I love. The hospital isn't where I'd like to spend it."
The rest of the time.It's not fair. Of all people, why is it Jonghui? Is that also a coincidence, or is it fate? Bonggu doesn't know which one is scarier. Fate, or coincidences. Maybe they're equally so.
"But wouldn't you… wouldn't you live longer if you stayed at the hospital? Wouldn't it be safer? Wouldn't it—"
"I've been at the hospital before," Jonghui says quietly. "A year ago, I stayed there for months. It was there that the doctors told me I didn't have more than a year left to live, but then they said it was October when I went and checked up in April. Maybe if I'm lucky, November. I don't want to be back there."
She paused. "And apart from that, I used to be in medical school. I was a nurse. I know both secondhand and firsthand how painful and lonely it is to be at a hospital, and I don't want to go through that. Even if I'm 'safer' there, I don't want to be there."
Loneliness,it's a feeling that Bonggu knows all too well. And for some reason, even though he's scared and terrified and he doesn't want Jonghui to leave anytime soon, he understands oddly well.
Yejun also wants Jonghui to go to the hospital, but she's adamant in staying at home, the wordsjust a while longer,andwait until I get worselingering on her lips every time he tries to press her. Bonggu's conflicted between wanting her to leave (because it's for her own good, after all), and wanting her to stay because he never knows when she'll be gone.
Not knowing is a terrible thing, and he hates it more than before.
On one hand, it seems impossible. Jonghui was the first person he saw since he came to earth. She can't be gone. The thought is incomprehensible, impossible. Things like that only happened to others.
On the other hand, it's very real.
"Do you think she should go to the hospital?" Bonggu asks Yejun one night. Jonghui is sleeping, and they're sitting alone under the swinging light. "I mean…she says she doesn't want to, but I'm worried… worried…"
"You're worried about her," Yejun finishes simply, "Aren't we all?"
Bonggu tries to think of a retort, but it doesn't come as easily as it used to. He doesn't have the heart for it.
"Remember what I said when you just came here? You asked me why I didn't kick you out."
That was months ago. It feels like yesterday, but at the same time, so many things are different. Some are a good kind of different, and others are a sort of different that Bonggu wished didn't exist. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I remember."
Yejun casts him a look, but keeps on talking. "I want her to be happy," he says finally. "That's my only reason for every choice I make for her. If she only has so little time left, I believe that… as her brother, the best thing I can give her is happiness. Because she deserves it, too. And I can tell that she doesn't want to go to the hospital. It may hurt her, and therewillbe a point when Ihaveto send her there, like how I told you there would be a certain limit before I sent your away, but… for now, I think… I think I'll let her choose. Until we reach that limit."
What that limit is, Bonggu doesn't know. He doesn't ask either, but he worries about when Jonghui will approach it.
It's September 12th, the morning of.
It's a dreary day, and it's raining yetagain.That's the first thing that registers to his hazy mind — the pitter-patter of raindrops as it hits the window panes and the roof. What really wakes Bonggu up to the slamming of the front door, and immediately, he shoots out of bed, stumbling half blindly into the living room, still in his pajamas. There's no one there, though the chimes on the front door are ringing.
Yejun's shoes are gone from where they usually lay.
Yejun doesn't go to work so early. He doesn't go out this early. Heck, he doesn't even wake up so early. It's so dark that Bonggu can't see anything when he looks out the windows and it's still dark, which means that it's probably before seven.
Jonghui.
Dread seizes him and a moment later, he's not tired, but running towards the direction of her room.
The only couple of times Bonggu had actually went into her room was when she was choosing books for him, and normally, he finds no reason to go into her room. However, today, the door is already open (and Jonghuialwayscloses her door). Bonggu can feel how empty it is, how cold it is, and he doesn't need to flick on the light to know that Jonghui isn't present inside.
Cold fingers squeeze around his heart.No, not today, just another day, a little bit longer —it's a bucket of ice water thrown over him when he realizes that somehow itistoday, it isnow— and it's absolutely terrifying. Bonggu can barely breathe.
Hands shaking, he closes Jonghui's bedroom door gingerly and makes his way back into the living room, steps shaky as he tries to process everything. It's hard, terribly so, and the only thing Bonggu can feel is a strange sort of numbness that is steadily spreading from his chest, a horrifying sort of numbness. Almost like he's in shock. Denial. Like it still isn't sinking in yet. Even though he knows the truth full well.
For a while, Bonggu sits on the couch, staring at the opposite end of the room in the darkness. It's so quiet and empty without Jonghui and Yejun, and if Jonghui's room door has been left open and both of them are gone, there's really only one place they can be: the hospital.
It's lonely there,Jonghui had said.I know both secondhand and firsthand.
It's lonely here, too,Bonggu thinks.Very.
He's not sure how long he's been sitting there when the sun finally begins to rise. It's faint, thin rays filtering in from the curtains and lighting up the dark room ever so slightly. Bonggu doesn't even notice it at first until the windows flutter, ever so slightly. He wonders dully if his mind is playing tricks on him, and then someone pushes the blinds apart and steps through and he recognizes Eunho.
Bonggu's not surewhathe feels anymore. Sometimes thinking of Jonghui has him wishing for Eunho to appear, because there's so many things he doesn't know and wants to ask, and at other times, he hopes he doesn't see Eunho again, because what if it means he's leaving? What if it means heaven has decided it's his time to go back, and he can't stay anymore? What if…
There are so many what ifs. Bonggu is sick of them.
"What do you want?" he asks Eunho, though his voice comes out as a croak, hoarse and scrapey. It hurts his throat to speak.
"What doyouwant?" Eunho parrots. "Do you want to waste your time by moping here because that's the only thing you're good at?"
Before, Bonggu would've takena lotof offense at that. But now, there's no anger whatsoever. He doesn't have the energy for the anger. "What am Isupposedto do?" he snaps, though he doesn't come off as aggressive in any sort of way. His voice sounds strange to his own years. "Should I walk to the hospital she's at? I don't even know which one it is. There's virtuallynothingI can do but sit here and waits." As he speaks, his voice rises involuntarily. The built-up frustration, the fear, the anger — for some reason, because Eunho's here — all spills. "Do you think I like waiting here and doing nothing? And if you're not going to help me, why are you here? All you ever do…all you ever do… is…"
Bonggu breaks off there. He doesn't even know what he wanted to say, doesn't know what to say, or how to say it. "I just…don't tell me you're here to bring me back. I don't want to go back anymore."
Eunho's expression is unreadable, eyes fathomless. "Do you want to stay here, then?"
"You knew, didn't you? That Jonghui… that's why you told me to be nice to her back then. Damnit, Eunho, why couldn't you have…"
"Do you want to stay here?" Eunho repeats.
"No," Bonggu mutters. "I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to go back and just pretend that all of this was just something for me to learn from because it's so much more than that, but I don't want to stay here either. I don't think Icanstay here."
"You can if you really wanted to."
"Not that way. If Jonghui—whenJonghui… I don't think…"
Eunho presses his lips into a grim line. "There's always the choice of forgetting everything again."
Stunned silence follows his words, and Bongguhasno words after that.There's always the choice of forgetting everything again.Wasn't that what he'd done before? Forgotten everything, because it was too painful to remember? He doesn't know what exactly it was that he'd chosen to forget — Eunho doesn't tell him, he's not sure he wants to know either — but choosing it yetagainseems like a coward's way out. Besides, there are things he doesn't want to forget. The happy moments. The laughter. If he chooses to forget, then those things will be gone also.
"I won't," he says firmly, and it's the first thing he's been adamant about in a while. "I won't do that again."
Will you?a small voice whispers, and though Bonggu pushes it away, it doesn't quiet down either.
"So?" Eunho asks, breaking the silence. "What are you going to do now? Think. You have a brain for a reason, and it's not for you to just sit around doing nothing."
"Do you know what hospital Jonghui is at?"
There's silence on the other end for a moment. For a moment, Bonggu's afraid he's phoned the wrong person. He doesn't use phones a lot and it's taken him a long time to properly find Noah's phone number — Jonghui's left her phone behind, and he found it in there — and even then, he doesn't know if 'angel cousin' is really Noah (all her contact names are weird).
"Bonggu?" It's Noah's voice.
"Yes," he replies hurriedly, "Do you know which hospital Jonghui's at?"
"Well, I'm not too certain, but I do know the one she stayed at before." Noah's voice is tense too, and Bonggu concludes that he must've known too. "Why don't you phone Yejun?"
"I have," Bonggu says, and it takes all of his self control to keep his voice steady. "I have, many times. He hasn't picked up yet. I think he turned his phone off."
Noah hesitates slightly on the other end, and then finally, says, "I'll come pick you up and we'll drive there. If it's the hospital I think it is. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
He doesn't want for a response, and then hangs up. The line drones on the other side, and for a while, Bonggu holds the phone to his ear, unable to move.
"That was more than twenty minutes," Bonggu says, though his voice sounds flat to his own ears.
Noah glances at him but doesn't speak. His eyes are distance as Bonggu pulls himself into the passenger seat. "It's morning," he replies, "There's traffic."
The door slams shut behind them. "Where's Hamin?" Bonggu asks. The car isn't large, big enough to fit five people though he and Noah are the only ones in it.
"Dance studio. He doesn't know yet. I'll tell him later. He's working right now."
They stop talking after then. Neither of them are in the mood to strike a conversation and Bonggu can tell pretty well how tense Noah is by the way his jaw is clenched, the look in his eyes, his lips pressed together. The drive there is slow, with constant stops in front of red lights and the line of cars moving like snails. When the hospital came in sight, the clock on Noah's car reads 9:12. Bonggu's feeling nauseous from the constant stopping and going of the car, though it doesn't really matter that much because both of them are walking quickly to the hospital a couple seconds later.
Noah is the one to talk to the lady at the front desk and Bonggu looks around the place they're standing. The hospital ishuge.It's almost impossible to think that Jonghui is somewhere in there, in one of the rooms.It's lonely in the hospital.
With the whitewashed walls, the nurses with their uniforms and straight faces and masks over their mouths, Bonggu can tell very well why Jonghui thinks it's a lonely place.
Noah is talking with an assortment of rapid hand movements, and the lady at the front desk looks a bit overwhelmed. A little while later, a woman with a suit and hair tied in a neat bun is leading them through the hallways, threading down corridors. Bonggu's lost his way back out (and he thinks Noah has too, because the other is looking around in confusion).
When they finally enter the room they were supposed to be in, the first person Bonggu sees is Yejun.
It's logical that Jonghui isn't there. There's a reason why Yejun was up at six in the morning and why Jonghui's door to her room isn't closed like normal, but still, seeing Yejun sitting in the navy blue chairs of the waiting room, alone, is brings a jolt of fear to Bonggu that he can't quite ignore.
Why would Jonghui be there?he asks himself,That's a stupid thought.
Bonggu takes in a deep breath. "Is she okay?"
Yejun's lips quirk up into a mirthless smile. "Do you think I'd be waiting out here like this if she were?"
Bonggu swallows. "Why didn't you pick up the phone? I was phoning you and—"
"You're resourceful enough to get Noah to drive you, aren't you? And I thought you were working." He turned to look at Noah. "Weren't you?"
Something a lot like pain passes Noah's face. "Yejun," he says, then trails off. "You know, it's fine too cr—"
Yejun sniffs. Bonggu stiffens and involuntarily, glances toward him.
He sniffs again. "Stop staring at me, Bonggu."
Bonggu blinks. "Are youcrying?"
"No."
Bonggu doesn't look away despite Yejun's words, and he can see how glossy his eyes are. For some reason, Bonggu can't bring himself to cry at all — the shock and denial is so strong and it just feels sounreal.Looking at Yejun makes it so much worse, but he can't look away either for some reason.
Noah is the first one to break the silence. "What are you going to do now?"
Yejun's eyes are rimmed with red, but he looks as if he's still trying to keep the tears back. He straightens his back, lifts his chin and glances at both of them. "What do you mean what do we do? We wait. That's all wecando." There's something very sad about Yejun's voice when he speaks and repeats the two words. "Just wait."
Chapter 16
XVI
Longing
The sky is grey when Bonggu peers out the window for the nth time. He's given up trying to look through the door, where the patients go in and out, because he can't see Jonghui anyways.
Yejun sits beside him, and Noah sits beside Yejun. All of them are silent. Bonggu isn't sure how long it's been since they've been waiting — and hehateswaiting, and the fact that it's all he can do makes him feel positively pathetic — but outside, clouds have drifted and the day suddenly looks darker than he remembers. Not after long, rain is streaking down the glass panes of the hospital, and Bonggu traces each droplet halfheartedly as it falls. It doesn't serve as a good distraction, but it's a distraction all the same and he tries his best to take his mind off of Jonghui.
October,he tells himself,It's not October yet. She'll be fine. Even if she stays at the hospital…
He's not sure if one's voice can break during thoughts, but his does.Until October.
How had Yejun lived with this knowledge and still kept himself so composed all the while? How had Jonghui kept it away from him so easily? Noah? Hamin? Had Haejun known? Had they all known except him, until a couple of weeks ago?
"Yejun," Bonggu says, though his voice comes out too soft, a croak. The other seems to have been able to make out his name, because he turns. His eyes are rimmed with red, as if he's trying hard not to cry. Bonggu just feels empty. He can't even bring himself to cry.
"What?" Yejun blinks. Another drop of water traces down the window pane.
"What happened this morning? I mean, why did… why did you sent her to the hospital? Both of you were gone when I woke up, but it was extremely early then and I had no idea what happened."
"She should've been at the hospital a long time ago," is all Yejun replies with, "I know she didn't want to go, but even then, I should've gotten her to."
"What happened?"
"She fainted," Yejun says tersely, "She can't rely on her pills forever, especially when it's so close… so close to…" His voice breaks then. "Just wait, Bonggu. It shouldn't be something severe."
Bonggu hates howwaitingmeant being silent. It's moments like this that Yejun will probably benefit from talking to others, but Noah remains silent and he doesn't feel like facing Yejun's anger anytime soon, so he snaps his mouth shut too.
The rain stops. They still wait.
It seems like forever when the door finally opens, and Bonggu's head snaps upwards. A nurse, dressed in all white with an equally matching white mask stands at the door. Her eyes scan the room, and ultimately, lands on the three of them. "Are you all here for the patient Nam Jonghui?"
Yejun is the first to shoot to his feet. "Is she awake?"
"She's stable. What's your relation to the patient?"
"Brother." Bonggu can hear the impatience laced into Yejun's voice. "Can we go see her?"
The nurse's gaze trails towards him and Noah, and he hears the other mumble what sounds generally like 'cousin.'
There's a long moment of silence.Brother. Cousin.What was he to Jonghui? What was she to him? Bonggu stands, frozen, for a long while, while the nurse fixes him with a disinterested gaze. And somehow, that angers Bonggu. She works in a place where so many people's lives were in danger, so many people werelosingtheir lives, and yet, she looked as if she were… numb to it all. Like she didn't care anymore. Straightening, he lifts his chin so he's meeting her gaze. "Boyfriend."
The nurse doesn't look very surprised, just nods at them, then turns to look at Yejun once again. "She's not awake yet, but all her vitals are stable. The doctors also did a couple of scans on her, and… they'd like to ask you a couple of questions. Your name is…?"
"Nam Yejun."
She gives another nod, then silently gestures at them to follow her. Without waiting for an answer, she turns and opens the door and disappears behind it. The three of them follow behind her, also silent, footsteps echoing gravely down the empty hallway.
Somehow, it's even scarier than waiting is. Jonghui is said to be fine, but Bonggu can't help but think otherwise, and even if sheisn'tfine, it's terrifying how he can do nothing to help her. He feels so helpless. All he can do is wait and hope, but there doesn't seem to be much to hope for either. It's like they've reached the end.
And they do, physically. They're at the end of the hallway when the nurse makes a sharp turn into one of the rooms, opening for door for them, and all three of them go into the room instantly.
It's white like the rest of the hospital, and that's Bonggu's first thought. The walls are washed white, the bedsheet is white, the window blinds, pulled aside, are white. The nurse is white. The only thing that is a contrast against all the white is Jonghui's black hair from where she's lying on the bed. She looks impossibly small in the middle of an empty room, connected to the machines, the various tubes that lead from that to her. Her eyes are closed, and the rise of and fall of her chest looks more laboured than it should've.
He wants to say something, tohearsomeone to say something, but Bonggu can feel his own throat close up and he can't say a thing. The doctor in the corner of room, whom he hasn't even noticed yet, turns around. He's holding a clipboard, and he's jotting something down. His eyes scan the three of them, and ultimately, they land on Yejun. "You're her brother?" he asks, "I need to talk to you for a moment. Can you please step outside with me for a moment?"
Yejun opens his mouth, looking as if he wants to reject, but then he seems to think about it again and snaps his mouth shut. "Alright."
The doctor in white, the nurse in white, and Yejun leave the room. Bonggu feels out of place in the dark blue sweater he's wearing.
Mutely, Noah pulls one of the chairs from the corner of the room to Jonghui's bedside. Bonggu remains standing in the center of the room, unsure of what to do or say. His mind is whirling.
Regrets.Does he have any?
Tons.
Was it really the right idea? It hurts just looking at Jonghui, lying unconscious on the bed — how much will it hurt when she finally leaves? And atop of that, why had he stayed for so long? Eunho had said his banishment, the reason hewasput on earth, was for him to change. And he's changed plenty.
Maybe it would've been easier if he left before Yejun told him Jonghui was sick. Before he really had the chance to acknowledge his own feelings for her — maybe that was when he should've left, to avoid the whole mess that was unfolding.
"Bonggu?" Noah calls, "Are you just going to stand there?"
"I…"
"You know, you're not going to be able to hear what Yejun's saying even if you stand there, so…"
Bonggu blinks. "I wasn't listening to what they were talking about."
Noah opens his mouth to say something then, but then his phone rings. Bonggu hesitates for a moment longer before making his way towards the bed, where Jonghui lies, and simultaneously, Noah picks up the phone. "Hamin?" he asks, "Why are you phoning me?"
Bonggu traces Jonghui's face absentmindedly in his head, and he hears Noah let out a long sigh. He can't hear what Hamin's saying very well on the other end, but from the staticy noises hedoeshear from the phone, Hamin sounds quite panicked. "We're at the hospital," Noah says, "Look, I'll phone you later and I'll be home too in the afternoon."
A couple minutes of consoling Hamin through the phone, and Noah finally hangs up. Neither of them speak, and then finally, the silence is overwhelming. "How did Hamin find out? I thought he was working at that dance studio."
"He had a break during lunch and the studio's relatively close to Yejun's apartment," Noah explains, though his voice is tired and his gaze is fixed on Jonghui. "He dropped by at lunchtime to bring her something, and then nobody was phoned. Then he called them both and no one picked up. I reckon Yejun's phone is still turned off or he doesn't even have it with him."
"He's not coming to the hospital?"
"I told him not too."
The atmosphere is thick, and it's obvious that neither of them really want to talk. Still, some talking, despite how forced and unnatural it is, seems better than the pressing silence so Bonggu forces himself to continue. "Then are you going back later?"
Noah lets out a quiet laugh, though it's halfhearted. "You know, Bonggu, forcing yourself to talk isn't going to make any of us feel any better."
Bonggu does a double take, but manages to catch himself. "I'm not forcing myself to talk."
"There's a time for everything," Noah replies, "And there's a time for sadness, too. Don't try to bar yourself up from those feelings. You've seen Yejun doing it, haven't you? He's not always a good role model."
The door swings open before Bonggu can say anything else, and Yejun steps through.
His eyes are still rimmed with red, and they find Jonghui first thing. The doctor follows behind him, looking grave. He nods at Yejun. "I'll leave you here for a while, but the patient will be staying here from now on."
Yejun nods numbly, and the door opens and closes yet again.
Jonghui wakes up a couple hours later, and Noah has already left by then. He's hesitant, but Yejun convinces him that there's no way he can simply leave Hamin alone and hanging, so when the clock reads four thirty, Noah finally leaves. Forty five minutes later, Jonghui wakes up.
She's still hazy from the operation before and she stares at them with lidded eyes, and it makes it seem like she's looking past them, into a space somewhere else. Her voice is soft, quiet, barely audible, and after a little while, the same nurse ushers both Bonggu and Yejun out and tells them that Jonghui needs rest.
"Come back tomorrow," she says, "She's going to be more awake then. But from now on, she'll be staying at the hospital." When she says that, she fixes her gaze, hard, on Yejun, and Yejun bends his head as if a child being scolded.
Yejun doesn't talk the whole car ride back. His hands are tight around the wheel, eyes fixed in the distance and jaw clenched. He looks mad at first glance, though Bonggu can see the layer of unshed tears still glossing over his eyes. He's still trying not to cry.
"Joonmeyon said there's a time for everything," he finally offers, "You don't have to… try not to cry."
"I don't fucking care what Noah says," Yejun snaps, though his knuckles are already white around the wheel. His driving is terrifying, and briefly, Bonggu wonders what would happen if he died right then and there (because he's pretty sure it's not impossible with Yejun's driving). Will he automatically go back to heaven? "I… I…"
He blinks rapidly. "Don't talk to me now."
The rest of the drive is silent, accompanied by Yejun's occasional sniffs. He stares straight ahead, and when his face finally crumples into tears, he pulls the car to the side of the road and buries his face in his hands, still silent, soundless sobs wracking his body.
Seeing Yejun like this makes Bonggu feel utterly terrible, as well as horribly empty. Yejun remains at the side of the road for a long time, crying until his sleeves are wet with tears. Then, wordlessly, they continue the rest of the drive home as if nothing happened along the day, though perhaps, everything has.
The whole atmosphere is painfully grim when they arrive back at the house. "There's leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry," Yejun tells him. He disappears into his room, and the door shuts with abam.
Bonggu isn't sure if he's ever going to find the appetite to eat again, because he doesn't even open the fridge. He sits down on the sofa and stares outside aimlessly.
For the first time since four months, Jonghui isn't home for the night and it's just him and Yejun. And the thought in itself is not only sad, but terrifying.
The sky has darkened considerably by now. Somewhere, in Seoul, in a hospital that seems to be an unreachable distance, is Jonghui.
Yejun has already told him that he was going to visit his sister everyday, and Bonggu was going to too. As he scans the room, there's an odd gleam of silver where the desk is, which catches his eye.
Bonggu flips on the light of the lamp, and slowly, headed towards the desk. On it lies Jonghui's laptop, her earphones on top and the strings wrapped neatly around it. Underneath the earphones is the calendar that he hasn't seen in a while. The cover page is a picture of a pretty field with flowers, titled simply with "2016."And though Bonggu knows better than to go through someone else's stuff, he still reaches for the calendar and opens it.
January doesn't have many marks on it. The writing starts in the middle of March.
Now that Bonggu's looking closer, he can see that it's not the dates themselves that she's crossed out, and neither is she crossing out everyday. In the boxes, she's written something in black pen — and when Bonggu reads it through the red markings, they're things. Some of them are simple, like cooking a dish for Yejun, though are others that are bigger, such as going to places that he doesn't think are in Seoul.
At first, Bonggu had thought she was counting down her days. It seemed like a cruel method to keep track back then, but… she hadn't really been doing that.
The red markings stop in late June. July is completely free of her scribbles, though when he flips to August, the 17th is marked.Chae Bonggu,is all Jonghui has written.
His heart skips a beat.
Chae Bonggu. August 17th.That had been the day of their date.
For some reason — it's not even a big thing — Bonggu feels so shocked that he can barely breathe. He spends a couple more minutes clutching the calendar, but looking at it hurts too much. An hour or so later, he ends up falling asleep on the couch.
Yejun drives him to the hospital pretty early the next morning. He eats a piece of bread on the way and has a cup of coffee, but other than that, hasn't eaten at all. Bonggu can't blame him, though. He doesn't feel hungry either.
Jonghui is awake when they walk into her room. The ward of the hospital she's in is strangely quiet, and there aren't many nurses or doctors walking around when Bonggu and Yejun arrive. He holds her laptop in the bag he's carrying — it had been Yejun's suggestion, and it made sense that she'd want it — and there's a couple more of her belongings like books and her pencil case. She sits up slowly when she sees them, eyes widening in recognition and then finally what's obvious as relief and happiness. Her hair is tied in a messy ponytail and she's wearing a white hospital gown that disappears under the equally white blanket. She's still attached to the machines.
"How are you feeling?" Yejun asks, though the question is empty and without any meaning.
"Well," Jonghui says, "I think most of the drugs from yesterday have worn off by now, but I'm still feeling a little numb. And it hurts to talk." She tries to smile at the two of them, but it comes off as more of a wince. "I guess I'll be staying here from now on until… uh… are you two going to visit me everyday? It's a bit lonely here without others. And boring. And Bonggu, you don't have anything else to do, right?"
She sounds like she's teasing him, but underneath the teasing tone, there's something else — desperation.
"I will," Bonggu replies, though his throat has closed up.
"I'm going to too," Yejun says, "I can't believe you asked him and not me."
"I know for sure you're going to come everyday, but I'm not too sure about Bonggu."
"I'm the one with nothing better to do," Bonggu shoots back. "I'll stay here the whole day if you want."
"Will you really?" Jonghui's lips lift up into a larger smile this time, and it seems more genuine that before. She looks less tired, Bonggu realizes, when she smiles like that. It's so bright that she seems fine.
"Don't be stupid. What else would I do anyways?"
"I don't know," Jonghui mutters, "You never told us why you're here, and I feel like… as if… you'd disappear one day. All of a sudden." She blinks. "I think my head's still a bit weird from yesterday. What's in the bag?"
Happy to move onto a new topic (though unconsciously, his mind is still lingering on her words, but perhaps it's the other way around — Bonggu doesn't know whenshe'llbe gone. He doesn't think it's fair that she's the one saying those words), he pulls out the laptop from the bag and hands it to her. "I don't think you've ever finished writing the story you were writing, right?"
Jonghui's eyes are on her laptop, but they aren't very focused. "I haven't written in a while."
"And books," Bonggu continues, pulling out one of the books. It'sThe Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane."I bought a couple, but you can tell me which ones you'd like to read and I can bring them. Tomorrow."
Jonghui takes the book with a weak smile. "Thanks."
"No problem," he replies awkwardly, and Yejun clears his throat before pulling up a chair from the side so he's sitting next to her bedside.
They spend the rest of the morning talking about random things such as cooking (and Jonghui teases him about his hate for cucumbers), and Jonghui's all laughter, and when she laughs, Yejun does too. It seems okay, better than Bonggu expects, but the white walls and white clothes and nurses without expression in the hospital makes Bonggu long for the stretch of yellow sand of the beach, watching the waves roll in with Jonghui.
But it's just longing after all, and there's nothing he can do about it.
There's nothing any of them can do about it.
Chapter 17
XVII
Exhaustion
"Tell me a story," Jonghui says.
"A story?" Bonggu echoes dumbly, "Uh… what kind of story? I don't… I don't know many stories to tell. I…" He can't think of any other excuse to cover up without making Jonghui more suspicious than she is already of him. "I'll tell you one next time."
She coughs. Again. "Promise?"
There's something so painful about the way she asks about it that Bonggu can't help but nod, swallowing the lump in his throat and smiling as much as he can manage back at her. It's not an easy task, but when the moment passes, he's left to wonder what sort of story hecantell. He doesn't really know any stories, not does Bonggu think he even has the creativity to make up any. He glances at Jonghui again. "So," he begins awkwardly, "When is Yejun coming later on?"
"When he's finished work." Jonghui's voice is hoarse. She doesn't talk much anymore, and while Bonggu has never been much of a talker, it's obvious that it's painful for Jonghui to talk so he does most of the speaking.
"When is he finished work?"
Silently, Jonghui holds up her hand with five fingers. Bonggu nods back at her.
She's still attached to the machines and there are often times when the nurses come into the room to check on her, but she looks a little bit less tired and bad as she had the first time he had come to see her at the hospital. She looks more awake at least, and she reassures him that she's mostly comfortable and free from pain because of the painkillers. Bonggu wonders if it's really true, because at times, Jonghui still looks like she's in pain.
On the stand next to the bed lies her books. He brings one for her everyday and it piles higher and higher, but while he brings new ones, he doesn't actually take them home. So the pile increases. From where he's standing, he can see a couple books of theNarniaseries, along with her favourite —The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane.There's also her laptop and headphones, but it looks as if she hasn't really touched them. And while Bonggu wonders why, he doesn't ask her about it.
Everything about the room is white now. Things like Jonghui's hair and her eyes and her books are splashes of color against the white, but they feel insignificant compared to the amount of white there is. The color is no longer something Bonggu associates with angels and purity and innocence — it's a color that's horribly lonely. The only thing that Bonggu sees in the color is loneliness, and he hates it.
Jonghui coughs yet again. Bonggu turns to her. "Do you want water?"
She gives him a weak nod, and Bonggu takes the cup of water from the table and passes it to her. She wraps both of her hands around it before bringing it up.
At times like this, Bonggu is unsure of what to do and what to say. He's not sure what he can bring up to start a conversation, because there isn't much to speak about. But the silence is no longer companionable when neither of them are doing anything — it's an awkward, empty space that he wants to fill but isn't sure what to fill it with.
He spends the whole day with Jonghui — everyday Yejun drives him to the hospital, stays for a little while then leaves for work, and Bonggu stays with Jonghui the whole day. Sometimes it's idle and they don't do anything for hours, sometimes they read together or separately, and sometimes the air is blanketed with a tense silence which neither of them know how to break. It's one of those moments.
"You know," Bonggu says, "I haven't seen you write in a while."
Jonghui pulls her legs up to her chest. "I don't think I'm going to plan on finishing it."
Bonggu's head snaps upwards. "What?"
"I don't think… I don't think I'm going to finish it." Jonghui's voice is wavering, unsure, and the smile she gives him is equally so. "There's just no way I can write it into a happy ending, and… I don't want it to end if it's going to be something tragic. Do you get what I mean?"
Not really,Bonggu thinks, but instead, he gives her a nod. "Y-yeah."
Can not having an ending really count as a happy ending? Not in his book. That's uncertain, and uncertainty isn't a happy ending.
"You can always figure out a happy ending, can't you?"
Jonghui shakes her head. "It doesn't fit with the storyline that I wrote. There's virtually no way to have a happy ending without something supernatural or like… a miracle of some sorts, and it'll just ruin the whole story. So I think I'm going to leave it unfinished. That way… to me, that's a pretty happy ending. There's still room for the story to go on. They're not tied to something and it's free in a way. Maybe I'll change my mind some other day and continue, but as of now, I think I'm going to leave it like that."
Bonggu can't argue with her, because she looks content with her decision and there's nothing more he can say to that. So instead of continuing the conversation about discontinuing or continuing her book, he leans forward. "What's the book about?"
Something very much like a fond smile lifts Jonghui's lips up. "It's a fantasy story. I really like reading and writing those, because it's always like you can create a world that's a lot… well, for the lack of a better word,betterthan the one we live in now, with less restrictions on things. The main character's a guardian angel who was sent from heaven to guard the girl he was protecting, but in the end, there's a pretty crucial choice he has to make. That's a really rough outline of what it is. I'm not really good with summing up plots."
Bonggu's heart positively skips a beat. "An… an angel?"
"Yeah." Jonghui gives a sheepish grin. "I've always thought angels are cool. It'd be nice to have a guardian angel, you know? Someone to always watch you and protect you even if you don't know they're there. I wonder if they exist."
"The main character's an angel who's sent to earth to protect a girl?"
"It sounds ridiculous, but it's not nearly half as ridiculous when it sounds. The synopsis sounds more legit than that. I just can't sum things up on the spot."
Bonggu rolls his eyes at her. "Sure. You've been writing it for months and you still give me a proper summary?"
"I'm serious!"
He can't help but smile at the half determined and perhaps slightly frustrated look on her face. It's become so endearing — everything in general about her has. "Yeah," Bonggu says, "I know you are. What's the story called?"
Jonghui perks up. "On Angel's Wings."
On Angel's Wings.Bonggu repeats the title to himself in his mind, and even when they move onto a different topic, he's still thinking about it. Even when Yejun comes to pick him up and see his sister again, he's still thinking about it.
On Angel's Wings.It's a pretty title, but in some ways, awfully lonely too.
"Will you tell me a story now? I really don't want to talk too much today, so…"
Bonggu blinks at Jonghui. She's not sitting today but lying down, white blanket pulled up to her chin and eyes closed. She looks asleep, and the only thing that tells him she isn't is the fact that she's still talking. "Tell me a story, Bonggu. You promised."
There's no way he can reject the request because hedidpromise her to do so, and Bonggu doesn't want to break a promise, especially when she looks likethis.The only problem is that he genuinely doesn't have any sort of story to tell (the only thing he can do is go through the books he's read, but those are Jonghui's and she already knows them all). There are a couple fairytales that he knows of, but he doesn't know them well either and his mind is blank when he tries to pull out things to say.
For the longest time, neither of them speak, and then Jonghui looks at him. "So?" she asks, "Can you tell me now?"
Bonggu blanches. Then, finally, he opens his mouth. "Once upon a time," he begins, because it's the only way he knows how to start a story, "There was a boy."
He pauses, unsure of what to say next. "He… he didn't live the best life. Something really terrible happened to him, and when he died, he decided that he didn't want to remember all that had happened. He went to heaven when he died and was given the position as an angel, along with the choice to forget everything that had happened. He chose to forget it all, and so he lived as an angel for thousands of years.
"But somehow, along the way, he not only forgot his memories but he forgot what it was to be like a human. He became reserved and proud, treating the other angels around him badly and never interacting with others unless someone from higher up commanded for him to do. So after a couple hundred more years, heaven decided to send him down to earth to learn how to be a human again."
Bonggu pauses. He's not even sure what he's speaking anymore. He never intended to tell Jonghui his story in such a way, especially when there was a whole bunch of it that he himself wasn't even sure about. But for some reason, he's pouring it all out and he can't stop himself from doing so either.
"And?" Jonghui's looking at him expectantly, "What happened to the angel?"
"He…" His mouth is dry. "He… he met someone that taught him what it was like to be human again. In the beginning he hated it, because he had lost his status and his wings, but along the way, he learned that there was much more to being a human and being an angel both that he hadn't noticed. There were so many precious things and emotions he'd chosen to block out and forget. But it wasn't just laughter and happiness that he learned on earth. There was also sadness, anger, frustration, loneliness…" Bonggu trails off. "In the end, the angel learned what it really was like to be human. And despite the negative emotions contrasting with the happy ones, there were also memories, may they be bittersweet, that he kept in the end."
Jonghui's give a small smile. "What happened to him and the person he fell in love with? Did he stay on earth?"
"How do you know the angel fell in love with her?"
"He sounds like he fell in love with her," Jonghui replies simply, "What happened to them?"
"I don't know the ending of the story."
I don't know the ending of the storyyet.
"Ah," Jonghui says. She's looking at him a way that she hasn't before, and Bonggu hopes that it's nottooobvious that he was really just talking about himself. "Who told you this story?"
"My friend," he answers immediately, and it's not exactly a lie per say, because it really was Eunho that told him at least half of it.
"So you do have friends apart from my brother and my cousins," Jonghui muses with a slight laugh, "Who is he? What kind of person doesn't finish telling a story?"
"Secret."
Her shoulders sag at that, but a moment later, the topic is forgotten and she continues to ask questions about the story. "What happened to the boy before he became an angel? What sort of memories were they that he wanted to forget them so badly? To forsake all emotion to protect himself from that — what happened to him?"
I don't know,Bonggu wants to say,I don't know that part either.But he's avoided too many of Jonghui's questions already, so after a moment of contemplation, Bonggu says, "He lost something very important to him."
Even as he says it, he's wondering.Did I really decide to lose all my memories because of something or someone? What exactly happened?Bonggu wants to know, but at the same time, there must've been a reason he'd forgotten in the first place. Eunho had said that it wouldn't be a good idea for him to remember again, but Bonggu can't help but wonder.
His answer seems to satisfy Jonghui, though. She leans back, a distant expression on her face, and Bonggu thinks back to his own words too.
He lost something very important to him.
Something, or perhaps someone.
Bonggu can't sleep at all that night. But for once, it's his own words that are repeating to his head, and he spends at least an hour tossing and turning and wondering if it really was like he said. Had he really lost someone? Maybe that's not really what happened. Maybe it was something bigger.
The more he thinks of it, the more his head hurts trying to solve something he cannot solve. For a while, Bonggu just lies in the bed, clutching the pillow to his chest, thoughts hectic and flitting between what had happened in his past and what is happening with Jonghui. And bit by bit, each piece seems to link together more, and the more it fits, the more frightening it seems.
If it were someone he'd lost before, wouldn't losing Jonghui meant he was repeating what had happened in the past? Maybe it's a far-fetched guess because Bonggu has no idea what happened either, but there's something that tells him that it was the loss of something important that he'd chosen to forget.
After a little more while of tossing and turning, he sits up from the bed. It's impossible to fall asleep at the moment, and Bonggu knows it. The clock on the table reads one thirty, and even though part of him wants to, he doesn't go wake Yejun up.
It's dark outside, though the light from the street lamps is obvious and when Bonggu peers outside, he can see them, round, glowing white balls in the dark night. They illuminate the cars rushing by below them. And for some reason, the lone car that drives by the road by itself is such a lonely image that something in him seems to ache for it too.
Eunho,Bonggu thinks halfheartedly to himself,Where is Eunho? I want to talk to him.
Though at times the last thing he wants to see is the gleam of white and gold, it's perhaps the one thing that he's longing to see at the moment. Again, like always, there are so many unanswered questions that he wants to answer to.
Bonggu glances out the window again, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eunho.
It remains dark.
Dejected, he falls back onto his bed with a sigh. It's hopeless, really, and he knows it too. Eunho has his duties as an angel, and though he's rather (or very) annoying at times, he's still helped Bonggu to a certain extent and while he's yet to voice his appreciation, deep inside, Bonggu really does.
Someone taps him on the shoulder.
Bonggu whirls around, almost falls over, and clutches his shirt, breathing hard. Eunho stands behind him, arm crossed, head tilted and watching with an unreadable expression.
"Why do you always appear so unconventionally? Can't you… knock on my door or something? You're going to give me a heart attack."
"What fun would that be?" Eunho shoots back, and Bonggu can feel the irritation rise again. He's never going to find a chance to thank Eunho at this rate, because the other somehow never manages to speak completely seriously with him.
"It's not aboutfun,"Bonggu snaps, "Now that you're here, are you going to disappear in like, two minutes?"
"What fun would that be?" Eunho repeats, then he shrugs. "I'm a busy seraph, what can I say?"
Bonggu grits his teeth. It's not really what he'd like to go through with Eunho at the moment and he's too shaken by what's happened and tired from being unable to sleep to argue with Eunho. "I'll get straight to the point," he says, "What happened to me before I became an angel? What did I forget? Did I lose someone important to me?"
Almost immediately, the grin drops off of Eunho's face and he freezes, all in a split second. "How did you… how did you…"
So I was right.For some reason, the confirmation brings nothing but dread to him, not peace. He's been suspecting it too, but at the same time... "I did, then?"
Eunho straightens, regaining his composure as quickly as he lost it. "Yes."
"What exactly happened?"
"You chose to forget the memories, Bonggu." Eunho sits down onto his bed, resting his arms on his legs. His expression is guarded and words careful when he speaks again. "There's a reason you chose to forget, and it isn't my place to tell you what happened. And personally, I would say it's better if you didn't recall them again. Make new memories. Relearn it all. Isn't that what you're here for?"
"I'm not here for the situation to repeat itself again."
Eunho pauses. "What?"
"Jonghui." There's a strange sense of calm to his voice that he doesn't even recognize himself. "I was sent here to relearn how it was like to be human, wasn't I? And yes, maybe I did, but… but… is it really just a coincidence that it's happeningagain?Or is it some sick, stupid fate that I can't seem to avoid? Even in this life?"
For once, Eunho looks like he has nothing to say.
"Well?" Bonggu prompts, feeling more and more angry by the moment. It's just getting frustrating that Eunho won't answer him. "Why is it happening again? Out of all people, I have to meether?Out of all things,thishas to happen?Again?"
Eunho opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again. After a while, he finally opens his mouth. "Maybe you didn't learn your lesson the first time."
Bonggu freezes. "What lesson? What lesson is there even to learn? This isn't a lesson anymore! This is just… just…"A painful repetition of what happened last time? Unfair? All of those?
"Bonggu," Eunho says slowly, "You know, I'm not against you when it comes to this. This whole time…I'm not here to make it harder for you. And I know that it's painful and it's unfair that it's happening again and it may seem like a cruel fate at the moment, but… there's hope even when you can't see it."
"Hope?" Bonggu doesn't have the energy to look back up at Eunho. "Hope is useless right now. She's dying, and nothing can stop it. What use is hope? I need a miracle. Maybe it would be easier to forget everything when this all ends. I'm exhausted."
Eunho has an extremely identifiable emotion on his face then: disappointment. Silently, he turns the other way, but before he does fully, Bonggu can see his lips pressed in a thin line, eyes hard. "Have you really learned nothing your whole time here?" he asks, "Forget everything? The easy way isn't always the right route, Bonggu. It's your decision in the end, ultimately, but there do you think you went wrong last time? I'm leaving now."
Bonggu doesn't have the energy to stop Eunho when he turns, disappearing in a shimmer of gold. The room is quiet, and once again, he's alone.
Chapter 18
XVIII
Terror
"Here," Yejun says, "I think you should have a phone."
Bonggu stares at Yejun's outstretched palm, where the phone lies, and he's not too sure whether or not he should take it. He feels as if he's going to drop it, which is highly possible and it's even more possible that it's going to break. For the longest moment, none of them speak, and then finally, Yejun forces the phone into his hand. "Take it," he says, "I put in three contact numbers for the hospital. It's unlikely that they won't be able to reach me, but if they ever can't, they'll phone either you or Noah. If they reach me first, I'll then phone you with this number. You probably won't have to use it at all, but when you do get phoned…"
He thinks it's awfully sad that Yejun doesn't have to specify what they're talking about and they both already know. Wordlessly, Bonggu takes the phone and tucks it into his pocket, and then they continue on with the morning like nothing's happened.
Jonghui rarely talks nowadays.
She'd brought speaking to a minimum before, but now, she remains scarily still on the bed and Bonggu isn't sure what to say either. On normal days, both of them read the pile of books that has gotten too high. Sometimes he'll read aloud to her, and though there have been a couple of times that she's fallen asleep, they manage to get through the a good chunk of the book on other days. Sometimes he falls asleep too.
One time, he managed to drift off first. With the hospital window open, both the curtains and the glass pane and the sunlight streaming in very warmly (even though it's now nearing October and very chilly in the morning and evening, it's oddly relaxing. The hospital looks a little less lonely than usual, and maybe it's because of the sunlight has turned the white a warmer shade. Yejun has also bought a bouquet of flowers in for Jonghui, and it stands out like a beacon against the otherwise pale hospital room.
Whatever it is, there's something about the day that's soothing. Perhaps it's because Jonghui looks brighter than usual and if Bonggu ignores the machines connected to her and the white hospital, she almost looks like how he remembers her before — glowing, cheerful, smiling — and with all that, he drifts off.
It's actually Yejun that wakes him up.
Bonggu can feel Yejun shaking him, and he snaps upwards, slightly surprised and still disoriented from sleep. The room light is on, and it's too bright for his eyes. Jonghui is also asleep, head tilted to the side and eyes shut. The blanket rises and falls as she breathes, and while she doesn't say it, it's obvious that it's painful for her to even breathe at times. The thought makes his own chest ache.
"What time is it?" he asks Yejun, because the sun is setting outside and he can't quite remember how long he's slept. "Why are you so late today?"
Yejun gives a slight groan. "She really likes soup," he said, "And she can still have a bit of it because I ordered a really mild one for one. I took a detour to buy it at her favourite noodle shop and got caught up in more traffic than I expected, so now I'm late. It's almost seven thirty, anyways. I'm thinking we'll all eat dinner here today and leave a bit later."
At that moment, the blankets shift and both of them look at Jonghui. She blinks tiredly at them, then her eyes land on Yejun. "I smell noodle soup," she croaks.
A couple of minutes later, all of them are gathered around Jonghui's bed with noodle soup in their hands. Yejun's somehow requested for Jonghui's noodles to be smaller, because the udon is cut into smaller bits than the rest of theirs.
Bonggu hasn't even realized how hungry until they're eating, and while Jonghui sips her soup slowly with the plastic spoon, Bonggu has finished his in a couple of minutes. It's still pretty hot, and to add on to it, a teensy bit spicy. When he's fanning his mouth (whether it's because it's actually too hot or if it's because it's spicy hot) afterwards, he finally begins to regret downing the food so quick.
Yejun slurps up an udon noodle loudly, and Bonggu tries not to cringe at the noise. "Did you even eat lunch, Bonggu?"
He shakes his head.
"The hospital has lunch." Yejun sets his noodles down and reaches for his water bottle, which Bonggu eyes enviously because the spicy taste is only getting worse and he doesn't have any sort of water to quench it. "I can't have you starving yourself like this. You'll only eat double the amount for dinner so you might as well eat lunch too."
"When have I ever eaten double the amount for dinner?" Bonggu asks, still fanning his mouth. "I wasn't hungry at lunch, that's all."
"Well, I don't care, then." Yejun rolls his eyes at him. "Starve yourself. See if I care." He sucks up another noodle loudly, and Bonggu physically winces at the noise (and at the same time, he's still kind of hungry). Still, after a moment, he turns to look at Jonghui. "Make sure he eats lunch," he says, "Kick him out of the room to eat lunch. And you better eat too."
Bonggu opens his mouth to argue with Yejun, but then snaps it shut again. Yejun's words always contain some form of insult, but on the other hand, part of him feels oddly warm at the gesture.
"Do you care?" he asks, just to test the boundaries. "Actually,whydo you care?"
Yejun nearly spits his mouthful of soup out. "Do you think I care? Starve yourself all you want. It doesn't concern me anyways."
Surprisingly, it's Jonghui who's the next one who laughs. She's the slowest eater out of all of them (she always was, and now she's even slower. Bonggu tries not to think about it too much), and her bowl of soup is still half full. "He's always been terrible with showing his feelings," she tells him. She's smiling, but she's still keeping her voice to a minimum because it hurts her to speak loudly. "He's always been like that."
Yejun scowls at her. "You're supposed to be on my side," he says, though even as he says the words, Bonggu's mind isn't on it anymore. The unerasable memory of Yejun breaking down as they drive home, silently, wordlessly, almost as if he's still trying to reign in the emotions and pretend they're not there as he cries. It's painful to think about, and Bonggu can't imagine how much more painful it is for Yejun.
"Then don't care," he says dully, "Just don't starve yourself like me."
He receives a strange, questioning look from Yejun, and then the rest of the dinner is spent in silence because neither of them know how to reply.
Yejun cleans up the bowls and tosses them in the garbage can when they're all finished. The room is getting cold because the September night is chilly, so Bonggu closes the window until there's just a crack. The wind stops blowing in.
"Are you leaving now?" Jonghui asks them as she hands her almost-empty bowl of noodles to her brother, "It's pretty late and you're probably tired."
Bonggu's ready to pack up and leave, but Yejun shakes his head no and pulls out something silver from his bag — his laptop. "Not yet," he announces. "We're going to watch a movie."
Both him and Jonghui look at Yejun at the same time in shock, but he promptly ignores them and opens the cover of his laptop as if nothing is wrong. "What do you want to watch?" he asks Jonghui, "I downloaded a couple of your favourite Disney movies. And… Lord of the Rings, because… well, that's self explanatory. I have all three of them. And The Hobbit movies, but you said you didn't want to rewatch those."
"Lord of the Rings?" Bonggu's sort of read the books before, but not in very much detail because the writing style was too hard to get through. "There's movies for that? And there were other books apart from Lord of the Rings and there are movies for that too?"
Yejun shushes him with a wave of his hand. "You're not choosing, she is."
"If he wants to watch Lord of the Rings, I have no objection with it."
Yejun looks like he's about to object (like always), but then he opens the file on his laptop, grumbling something about how Bonggu always gets his way. Bonggu has no objection with it because he wants to watch Lord of the Rings anyways and Jonghui looks enthusiastic enough about it. He hopes the movies aren't as boring and hard to watch like the books are hard to read (though Jonghui objects when he tells her the books are boring — they're apparently one of her favourite series and she holds her hands over her ears when Bonggu tells her they're not well written. "They're not boring," she would say, "They're very well written, but the level of writing is pretty advanced and it makes sense if it's boring to you. But they're not bad. Don't say they're bad just because you can't get through it.").
"We'll start with The Fellowship of the Ring," Yejun says, "Or would you rather watch the third movie? That one was the best."
"Let's start from the first one," Bonggu says, and Yejun raises a hand to shut him up before Jonghui nods in agreement.
"We can marathon through all of them," she agrees, "It'll be fun."
Bonggu watches as Yejun's face softens. It's almost a weird image — Yejun, with his stoic face, the almost permanent frown on his face, a concrete contrast to Jonghui's almost-smile with a tender expression as he watches Jonghui point at the screen, the almost-smile turning into a full one. He presses play for the movie, and a little while later, all three of them are squeezed on the hospital bed (both paying attention to how they sit so they don't squeeze Jonghui too much — Bonggu is tempted to ask her if she's uncomfortable sitting up because she's said that lying down is more comfortable — but she looks intent watching the screen that he doesn't speak up on second thought).
The rest of the night is spent watching all three of the Lord of the Rings movie. Bonggu's fixated on the screen (it's much easier to follow along compared to the books) until Jonghui drifts off a little bit into Return of the King, head dropping onto his shoulder. For some reason, despite how much he's been into the movies, Bonggu can't keep his focus on the movie and it's shifted to her instead.
Bonggu doesn't leave the hospital that night, and neither does Yejun. He ends up falling asleep on one of the flimsy hospital chairs — not the best place to sleep — and then sometime during the night he falls off the chair because he wakes up in the morning on the floor. The ground is freezing.
The sun is bright when he opens his eyes, because the curtains haven't been closed fully. He's shivering — the sweater isn't the best against the cold, and the floor is hard — and the window wasn't closed completely either. Blinking, Bonggu looks around himself.
The laptop has been closed, but it's still lying on the edge of Jonghui's bed, dangerously close to falling off. There's a mess of black hair on the edge of the bed, along with the beige coat Yejun has (coat,Bonggu thinks enviously. Yejun must not be as cold as he is because he has a coat), then his socked feet. When Bonggu looks closely, they're white with tiny orange carrots on them.
He has to stifle the laugh so it doesn't wake up Jonghui and Yejun, but it comes out as a choked cough and Yejun snaps upward from the bed.
He looks around with wide eyes, though his eyes end up on Bonggu in the end and his eyebrows draw together yetagain. "What?" he demands, frowning, though it's a funny image because he still looks disoriented and exhausted from sleep. "Why did you wake me up? What's wrong? What time it is?" His eyes grow even wider. "Oh my God, what time is it? There's no clock in here." He fumbles for his phone, not going Bonggu a moment to answer the questions.
Bonggu doesn't spare Yejun a moment (he's awake, so he might as well). "Your socks," he says, "They're very professional. You wore them to work?"
Yejun looks positively annoyed. "I can't deal with you in the mornings. What's wrong with my socks?" He glances down, then glances up again. He's obviously too tired for the image to connect with his mind (granted, they watched Lord of the Rings until around 2am) because he shakes his head and continues digging for his phone. Then, all of a sudden, he freezes and stares down at his socks again.
"Shit," he says, and Bonggu's about to tell him to stop with the profanities but he sees Yejun's expression of horrified realization and he's laughing to hard to form words. Yejun tucks his feet underneath himself again, but what's done is done and Bonggu can't unsee the carrot socks anymore.
"You have carrot socks," he manages out, "And you wore them to work. Where on earth did you even get them?"
"He has more." This time it's Jonghui that speaks, and both of them start in surprise when she pushes herself up to look at them. She's still lying on the bed and her voice is scratchy and there are bags under her eyes, but the topic of Yejun's socks seemed to have woken her up and she looks amused. "I got him a whole bunch. There's one with cherries, another one with strawberries and—" she breaks off into a cough, "—there's even—"
Her sentence cuts off abruptly and Jonghui is coughing even harder, hand over her mouth. Yejun shoots up immediately, his socks in full view, but he seems to have forgotten about it. "Are you okay?" he demands. "I'll…" His eyes trail to the empty glass of water on the table. Bonggu can tell from the expression on his face that's he's panicking internally but trying not to show it. "I'll get you more water."
He waits until Jonghui has stopped coughing before grabbing the cup and basically running out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.
Bonggu moves over to Jonghui. When he looks down at her on the bed, she seems even smaller, as if she's getting smaller day by day. She glances up at him, lips tilting upwards ever so slightly. "I'm so tired," she says in a quiet voice. "I don't know why, but I'm always so tired. It's tiring to do everything. Even to smile."
Something in Bonggu's heart clenches too tight, in a manner so painful that he can't even breathe. "You said it takes less muscles to smile than to frown, though."
Jonghui hums in agreement, shutting her eyes and taking a trembling breath. Bonggu's not sure if her breathing is shaking because it hurts to breathe or because she's trying to steady it. "I'm neither smiling nor frowning. That takes the least muscles."
There's something extremely sad about that sentence and Bonggu tries to force a smile on his face. She glances up at him again, opening an eye and returning his smile with a pained smile of her own. "You can smile for us both," she says, reaching a hands upwards and wrapping thin fingers around his. "You're so bright when you smile. You should smile more."
Bonggu lets her as she drops her hand, pulling his with hers. It ends up resting on her cheek, which is cool to the touch. "Smile," she repeats quietly, "You frown too much."
Bonggu blinks rapidly, trying to ignore the prickly feeling in the corners of his eyes and tries to pull his lips into a wider smile, though it's much harder than he expected (and he's beginning to wonder if it's really the truth that smiling takes less muscles than frowning).
For a moment neither of them move. Then the door opens and Yejun enters, and still, Bonggu doesn't pull his hand away.
Yejun doesn't comment on it. He sets the glass of water down on the table, gaze lingering on them for a moment, then turns away quietly.
September nineteenth turns into September twenty ninth, and then it turns into October ninth where the leaves of the trees have turned into brilliant golds and oranges and reds (amongst those colors, however, lingers the brown, dying leaves that have gone straight from green to brown and Bonggu thinks it's horribly unfair they don't have their own color when they can shine, even if it's only for an instance before they die). The leaves are beautiful, but Bonggu doesn't pay much attention to them anymore. He doesn't pay much attention toanythingnow apart from Jonghui.
Eunho hasn't visited him since, and it's been a month or so. Bonggu tries not to think too much about it anymore — going back to be a seraph angel is something that seems like a distant dream by now. And the strangest part of it is that he doesn't long for it anymore, at all. In fact, he doesn't care if he goes back or not.
If she talked and ate less before, it's to an even more extreme extent now. Even the painkillers don't stop the pain. She was transferred to another ward around a couple of days ago, and while it's less lonely there and less white, Yejun's face went horribly pale when the doctors mentioned it and even though Bonggu doesn't know what it means (he has a vague idea, but Yejun refuses to tell him), it's nothing good. By now, nothingisgood.
It used to be uncomfortable to be the only one talking, and Bonggu hated it. It doesn't seem to matter that much anymore, because as long as the room isn't silent, it's okay. He speaks, Jonghui listens, and it's obvious she would talk too if it didn't hurt so much.
Not that the room is silent much, either. There are always doctors and nurses entering and reentering, and sometimes they irritate Bonggu to no ends. The constant opening and closing of the doors, the way they look at Jonghui — maybe it's not irritating — it's scary.
Bonggu knows that the whole October thing was just a guess on the doctor's side and it's very possible it's not accurate, but every day into October brings a new feeling of trepidation to him. He feels so helpless in the midst of all it, and he wishes that he can do anything that's remotely helpful. All he can do is accompany Jonghui everyday in the hospital, and it doesn't feel like it's enough. Itisn'tenough.
Yejun's taken a break from work for the next two weeks, so often, it's not just him and Jonghui anymore. He brings fresh flowers almost everyday.
On October seventeenth, Yejun sends him out to fetch flowers.
It's a weird request, but Jonghui especially likes the tulips Yejun's brought (in an assortment of colors. Before he exits the room, Yejun hands him an umbrella. "It's going to rain soon," he says after he tells Bonggu the instructions to the flower shop (it's not very far — perhaps a ten minute walk from the hospital, and it's straight down the street so Bonggu isn't going to get lost, hopefully). The umbrella is a light blue color.
The sky is grey when he exits the building. It's a very sheer contrast against the autumn leaves, but those are gradually beginning to lose their color too. The once pretty oranges and golds and reds have faded into the browns. Summer is over, officially. It feels like it's signifying the end of something else too. The summer warmth, the summer green, the memories — have turned brown and died, or turned into something bitter.
Bonggu reaches the flower shop successfully. He picks up the flowers successfully, pays the owner, then starts back. The clouds have gotten greyer.
He's barely a couple steps out of the shop when it starts the rain. He opens the blue umbrella, the pattern on the inside of it a swirl of a dark blue and a light blue. Bonggu can smell the faint freshness of the tulips, also a very sheer contrast to the feeling that Seoul gives.
For a while, he walks, listening to the pitter-patter of the raindrops on the umbrella before it starts raining even harder. The leaves, barely clinging onto the twigs, cannot stand the force of the rain and they spiral to the ground, pelted down by the mini bullets.
He's perhaps halfway to the hospital when something buzzes in his pocket, followed by a sound. It's unfamiliar — he's never heard it at all — and when it registers to his head, Bonggu thinks that Yejun has chosen a weird ringtone.
Then it clicks.
The phone.It's ringing, and Yejun had said it wasn't supposed to ring unless…
Time slows to a stop, or perhaps Bonggu is the only one that freezes. The rain continues to fall, the people around him continue to pass by, but for a long while, he can't move and the ringtone —it sounds far too happy — continues to go on in his pocket.
The umbrella drops (or maybe Bonggu doesn't have the energy to hold it up) and the rain, soaking wet like small, cold needles against his skin drains into him.
The flowers drop too, and then he's running towards the direction of the hospital as fast as he can.
Chapter 19
XIX
Remember
Bonggu is soaked, head to toe, when he arrives at the hospital. He's breathing hard from running, the flowers are gone, and the umbrella has been abandoned somewhere along the street but he doesn't care. He bursts into the hospital out of breath, and Yejun is already there.
His eyes are red, his fingers are wrapped around his phone so tight that they're scarily white. He looks as if he's bitten his lips so hard that they've begun to bleed.
The whole world seems to stop. Yejun is still, unspeaking, but his eyes say everything.
Bonggu can't feel the cold of the rain, the wetness of it, or anything else. He can't speak, but the thorn lodged in his chest seems to twist so much that he's afraid something inside him will all just snap.
"Operation room," Yejun says in a barely-audible voice. "But…"
He doesn't say the rest of the sentence. And then, silently like always, Yejun brings his sleeves to his eyes.
Bonggu's too numb to do anything.It's not possible. It's too early. Not yet. One more week. One more day. Another hour. I want to see her again.
All those are wishful thoughts. Yejun still has his face covered, his whole body is trembling, and Bonggu just stands still. The whole world is frozen. Even though Jonghui wasn't speaking much when he left to get flowers, there's no way that, in such a short span of time… the word itself is too horrendous to think of, much less say.
"Jonghui," he manages, but there are no other words he can think of to say.
The white of the hospital feels blinding. Outside, the rain batters at the last of the colorful leaves, and they're all sent tumbling to the ground, whether they're red, orange, yellow, green or brown.
It's a solemn affair, but for some reason, so quiet, too. Simple.
Nothing physically feels different when they drive home late that night. Yejun's eyes are puffy from crying, and his hands are shaking around the wheel. He stares straight ahead, unspeaking, as if he's completely concentrated on driving and driving only. They won't be returning to the hospital the next day.
And Bonggu hates it that everything seems to be the same. The world is still spinning, people still walk the streets, drive pass in their cars, go to work and return to their families. It feels wrong that everything is so normal when it's so different. And what he hates the most is that he still feels the same, everything looks the same, and they're still doing the same things. Even though she's gone. It's all… so normal.
"What are you going to do now?" It's Yejun who breaks the silence. "Were you just staying for her?"
On the backseat of the car, there's a bunch of Jonghui's belongings. Her silver laptop, a huge pile of books that took a couple back and forths to carry, and more miscellaneous things. The worse part of it all, though, is that she isn't there. Her belongings are. She isn't.
"I don't know," Bonggu says, and it's the only thing he can be certain about.I don't know. Am I going back? To an angel? Can I really just go like this? Is there any point to even go back? If I can't go back, what am I supposed to do?
"You don't know," Yejun echoes, though his tone is flat and there's no emotion in his voice. "I suppose it's easier for you. All of us have to just go on with our everyday lives like nothing's different—" His voice breaks there. "—but you don't know. I envy you."
"Why should you envy me?" Yejun's turning down the now-familiar road, to where the apartment is. The streetlights are on, now that it's dark, and the neighborhood is oddly silent. The rain has stopped, but part of Bonggu wishes that it was still raining. The rain gives him an odd sense of comfort, however small. "There's nothing to envy. You know what to do, but I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do now."
"Do you really think it's easier for me?" The car stops under a tree. The rain has battered most of the leaves to the ground, and they spread out, a soaked carpet of things once-colorful. The ones that still cling to the tree are hanging by a string. "In a couple of days, I'll be back at work. Next month I have to go to Beijing again. I'm going to plan the funeral before all of that happens, but after that, it's the same things that I do on an everyday basis. My colleagues will comfort me. People who know will offer their condolences. But in a week or so, they'll have forgotten about it and they'll expect me to be doing what I normally do. It's the same routine even though she's not here anymore, and that…" His voice breaks. "That's the worst part."
There's silence for a long moment, and neither he nor Yejun say anything of move. Bonggu can see the red-rimmed eyes, a layer of unshed tears.
"Here," Yejun says, beginning to pull something out of his pocket. "This was for you. And here's the keys. You go inside. I want to be alone for a while."
He hands Bonggu a slip of paper, folded neatly, and Bonggu can see writing on the other side. He barely manages to catch the keys.
Yejun doesn't look like he's in the mood to say anything else, so Bonggu opens the car door and steps out. The moment he closes it behind him and steps back, Yejun turns on the engine and in a couple of seconds, he's off and disappearing down the road, turning into nothing but a pair of glowing headlights.
Bonggu stands by himself for a couple of long moments, staring listlessly at the road, a chilly wind beginning to blow all around him. The piece of paper he has in his hands feel cold, and he's almost scared to open it.
For the first time ever, he walks the steps up the apartment building alone. On his way there, he passes the alleyway where he first met Jonghui. He can remember what it was like back then clearly, oddly vivid for a memory that seemed like such a long time ago. The flickering light, her umbrella, the quiet way she spoke.I don't need help from a human,he'd said to her back then.
It's not raining this time when Bonggu steps back into the alley. The flickering light is no longer flickering — it's burned out altogether so that the whole place is darker than it should've been. He's the only one standing there, and there's no girl under an umbrella that shows up near the entrance and shields the rain for him. But it's not raining anyways, and the umbrella had been dropped all the way back at the hospital.
Bonggu isn't sure how much time has passed when he finally turns to go back to the apartment. He can see his hands trembling in his line of vision as he opens the door numbly, enters the elevator alone and hits the floor number, a routine-like action that's strangely hard to do because he's alone. When he unlocks the door to the apartment, it's dark inside.
Exhausted and spent, he reaches over and flicks on the light in the entry hall. Even though the room is brighter, the light is a whitish color and it's just so lonely that he can't even think about it without his head hurting. His clothing still feels damp from being in the rain, but he doesn't have the heart to do anything about it. On the desk that Jonghui used to work at lies the calendar, untouched with unmarked months and days starting from somewhere in July.
Bonggu sets the keys down on the table, where Yejun can see it when it comes back, and then he goes back to his room, still clenching the paper from that Yejun had given him before he got out of the car. He hasn't seen Jonghui's handwriting too many times, but he knows it well enough to know that the paper is from Jonghui.
He's terrified to open it. With the door shut behind him, the curtains drawn, his back against the door, it feels as if the room is the only thing that exists. Opening the letter from Jonghui is almost like a confirmation that she really is gone. Like it's forcing him to believe it even though he'd rather not.
Almost like it's against his own will, Bonggu opens the letter slowly. He unfolds it once, twice, three times, four, before it's finally at it's full size. The writing is small, squished, and there's a lot on the paper. He can barely breathe when he scans the paper, the familiarity of the writing hitting him. The way she writes sounds so like how she talks that he can almost hear it in her voice.
I told you I'm not good with summaries,she wrote,I couldn't sum up my story, so I don't really know how I'm supposed to sum up everything I want to say to you on just one sheet of paper.
Bonggu can't stand any longer. Slowly, he sits down, the paper shaking before his eyes as he tries to steady his breathing and his hands.
You know, Bonggu, when I first met you, I thought you were honestly insufferable. I never told you about it because I thought I should be nice to everyone and it wasn't a lie when I said I wanted a friend and I assumed you were just being cautious because you didn't trust me and that was understandable, but still, at times I wanted to clock you in the head with my frying pan. I don't know when it was that I noticed you were changing — maybe it's when you offered to carry the groceries for me when I came back with my arms full, or maybe when you got the chicken soup for me because I was too short, or maybe it's when you hugged me for my birthday even though it was extremely awkward. You're really different from when you first came here, but you probably know that.
I've been thinking about it a lot — that story you told me about the angel boy who lost his memories and had to relearn what it was like to be a human. You said a friend told it to you, but you sounded like you knew the story so well when you told it. Even though it was vague, it seemed like it was from personal experience.
It was you, right? Maybe I'm just tired when I'm writing this or I'm looking too deeply into it, but that's the only explanation I can come up with why you're here, the scars on your back, the way you acted in the beginning. I still can't figure everything out and maybe I never will, but that's just a guess.
I'm really glad you came. Whether that story was really about you, or if you were in a gang and that was why you had those wounds down your back — whatever it is, I don't care. I tried to spend my days doing things that I wanted to do so I could do everything I wanted before I left because regrets were the last thing I wanted. It was so hard because there was so little time and an endless list of wanted to do. I wanted to finish this story. Write another. Visit places with my brother. The list really doesn't end, but for some reason, I feel content with everything I've done with you.
I really do wish I could spend more time with you, because five months wasn't near enough. But I'm happy with it too, because five months was what we were given and I think we made good use of it.
Anyways, that's about it. Remember, though. If my brother is mean to you, tell him. Don't let him boss you around because he's that kind of person. If he says something to you in Chinese and tells you what it means, he's probably lying. Smile more. You look so bright when you smile. It takes less muscles than frowning, and even though having a neutral face requires the least muscles, smiling makes everyone around you happier too.
You asked me about memories, once. There's pain there, but maybe that's the beautiful thing about memories. They'll always be there if you want them. Even when time passes and you think you'll forget them, you won't really because it's still there. The laughter, the joy, the pain, the sadness. It's never really gone.
One last thing. White is a lonely color when you look at it, but it's also a color that can be dyed easily. Add a bit of red and it's pink. It doesn't take much to change white, and I really love that about white. When something is added to it, it can be warm, it can be cold, it can be ugly, it can be beautiful.
So let yourself be like white, but don't let yourself be tainted by the ugly colours.
There's no ending to it. No signature of her name, nothing else. It just ends on that note. Bonggu doesn't even realize that he's crying until something splatters onto the black ink of the paper, smearing it, and then there's another drop and he hastily puts the paper aside and wipes his eyes.
It's no help. Vigorously, he wipes his eyes and tries to stop the tears, but they don't stop and soon, he's sobbing into his sleeve, breathing hard. A couple seconds later, Bonggu doesn't even try to stop the tears, because for some reason, crying feels better than the numb, empty feeling from a couple of moments ago.
He cries until there are no tears left. Because five months was in no waynearto enough and the amount of time he wanted. Because despite wanting to, he never got to tell her the whole story or the reason why he was there or even thank her sincerely for everything. Because even after everything, he can't imagine any sort of ending that won't turn out the same way it turned out the last time.
The couple of days are a blur. Yejun is rarely home and he's extremely busy, though there's one day of the week where Noah and Hamin drop by.
Hamin looks terrible (though Bonggu supposes that he doesn't look any better). His eyes are bloodshot, there are dark smudges of grey underneath them, and he doesn't have much to say. Noah doesn't look as exhausted, but Bonggu can tell he's been crying too.
He has a box of cookies in his hand. "Yejun needs to stop starving himself," he says. "It's not good for him and he's not going to bring her back to life by hurting himself. And you too, Bonggu. You have to eat. You look terrible."
Bonggu doesn't say it out loud, but he doesn't know if hecaneat without wanting to throw up. The thought of swallowing food doesn't sit well.
Still, to make Noah stop nagging, he takes a cookie. It crumbles like dust in his mouth.
Yejun is running about with the funeral preparations and it's very late when he gets home everyday. They don't talk and Bonggu stays in his room, but he hears the front door open and unlock. For two days in a row, it's nearing twelve when Yejun gets back. Before, Jonghui would save dinner for him and heat it up whenever he came home late. But she can't now.
On the third day, it's almost two in the morning when Bonggu finally hears the click of the lock. He gets up and peers outside to see Yejun stumbling inside, steadying himself with one hand against the wall. He kicks his shoes off messily, all the while walking like he's extremely tired, as if he can't see in front of him properly. He stumbles to the couch and collapses on it.
Quietly, Bonggu slips out of his room and shuts the door behind him quietly. Yejun is wearing his beige coat again, though his hair is extremely messy and sticking to his forehead with sweat. He's sprawled across the couch with one arm hanging off, eyes squeezed shut, and the position looks extremely uncomfortable. His cheeks are red.
When Bonggu gets close enough, he's bombarded with the distinct smell of alcohol. It's so strong that he almost gags at it.
Pinching his nose, he takes another step towards Yejun and touches his shoulder lightly. He doesn't stir.
"Yejun," he whispers, but there's no response. "Wake up."
How had he even driven home in such a state? Wasn't it supposed to be illegal, too? Bonggu doesn't know for sure, but he feels exhausted too. He hasn't slept properly for a long time, but it wasn't as if he could really force himself to sleep. And now, with Yejun drunk and so many things happening at once, he's even more unsure what he's supposed to do.
"Yejun," he says again, louder, "Wake up."
This time, Yejun cracks open one and and gives him a look of confusion. He doesn't look like he actually recognizes Bonggu, because he says something along the lines of, "what are you doing in my house?" before shutting his eyes again.
Bonggu has no idea what to do. It's two in the morning which means he shouldn't ring Noah about it, but also leaving Yejun alone seems cruel. It truly looks uncomfortable and if Jonghui were there, she'd probably tell him to take care of her brother. Dragging Yejun back to his bed doesn't seem possible and Yejun looks deadweight anyways.
He gives Yejun one final shake. "Wake up," Bonggu grumbles, "You need to drink some water and change out of those clothes and go sleep on a proper bed."
Yejun opens his eyes again, squinting at Bonggu with an obvious frown on his face. "Why are you still here? When are you going to leave?"
"Sit up," Bonggu says, gritting his teeth and trying to keep his temper under control. It's so hard to talk to Yejun, but at the same time, it's not just because it's frustrating. He doesn't need to ask to know why Yejun's acting like this — and the thought of it just makes it hurt more and Bonggu doesn't want to think about it. "I'll get you water, and—"
"Jonghui makes really good hangover soup," Yejun slurs. "Can you make it for me too?"
Bonggu can feel his heart skip a beat at the mention of her name. "I'm not Jonghui," he manages out, though his voice chokes up in the end. "And I'm not making hangover soup for you either. I'll get you water and you can go to bed."
Yejun doesn't protest any longer, nor does he mention his sister's name again. He's basically obedient with everything up until Bonggu drags him to his bed.
"You're not Jonghui," he says in a small voice, and it sounds terribly sad, "I find it so ridiculous that you're the one here and not her."
Bonggu tries to ignore Yejun's words, but they hurt and it's not just because the reminder of Jonghui. He leaves the room, turns the lights off, then goes back to his own room.
He doesn't get much sleep that night. It's around six thirty in the morning when Bonggu wakes up, and even though he feels exhausted, he can't fall back asleep.
He orders hangover soup for Yejun from the nearest store he can find, then leaves the apartment and wanders into the city on his own.
Bonggu isn't even sure how he gets there, but somehow, he ends up sitting on the exact same bench he and Jonghui had sat on on their date.
The park looks different from back then. It had been summer the last time they were there; this time, the green grass was yellowed and the trees were bare. The leaves, once pretty, were soggy piles of messes beneath the trees, colors bleeding out and turning into dry, brittle brown. There's no one in the park this time, and even the spot beside him is cold.
The sky is grey, making it look much darker than it should've been for such a time. Bonggu thinks it's going to rain soon, and though he doesn't have an umbrella with him, he doesn't care. At least the rain can reflect his emotions.
He's not sure how long he's been sitting on the bench when there's movement beside him. Someone steps into his line of vision, and Bonggu doesn't even have to know who it is.
He doesn't even have the heart to greet Eunho as the angel sits down beside him. But still, Bonggu can't help but notice the other's attire — instead of the normal gold and white (or white and some sort of light color), he's wearing a black suit with a white shirt underneath. He looks uncharacteristically dressed up.
"Why…" Bonggu stares at Eunho's attire again. "Why are you wearing a suit?"
Eunho doesn't give a response, but sits down beside him. Finally, he says, "It's fitting for the occasion. Have you made up your mind yet?"
"Made up my mind about what?" The bitter laugh that comes out doesn't sound like him at all. "What is there even to make my mind up on?"
"You can go back now, you know," Eunho continues as if he hasn't spoken, "You can go back with all your memories, with all of them gone, or you can stay here and live your life as a human."
The first droplets of rain begin to fall, and they feel like needles against his skin. Bonggu bites back the frustration. "I can stay here," he echoes. "Why would I want to do that?"
Eunho shrugs, face unreadable like always. "I don't know. It's a choice you have."
The rain starts to pour harder, and Bonggu can see the drops splattering across the sweater he's wearing — he's pretty sure it's Yejun's, and when he thinks of Yejun, he wonders how he's doing — though next to him, Eunho is somehow unaffected by the rain. His hair remains dry, suit neat, while Bonggu feels the rain soaking through.
"It's so unfair," he laughs mirthlessly. "Everything is just so unfair. Is this fate? Did someone plan this? Or is it a coincidence I landed in that spot at that time just so I could meet her and just so I could fall in love in her and for all of this to happen?What is it?"
Bonggu doesn't even realize he's yelling until he stops talking to catch his breath, though he's breathing too hard to control himself. He's not sure if he's crying or if it's just the rain. "This is cruel."
"Bonggu," Eunho says slowly, "if you didn't meet her and you met someone else, would it really be the same? All those things you've learned, everything that you've done — don't diminish that into nothing just because of what's happening now. When you go on, which memories do you think are the ones that will stay with you?"
Bonggu blinks into the rain. He feels pathetic, but he can't help himself. "Ithurts."
Eunho has a sad smile on his face when he turns to look at him. "I know," he replies, "I know."
"Yejun told me that it's the regrets and what-ifs that are the ones that'll follow me later on. If I didn't do it, I'd regret it later on and spend forever regretting it. But if I did everything I could…still… it doesn't feel like it's enough. Even though we did everything we could in that time, it just feels…what if I didn't? What if I left as soon as I learned about what was happening to her? Before that?"
"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.That's what Yejun said, right?"
Bonggu squints at Eunho through the rain. It's pouring so hard that he can't even make out Eunho's features properly. "How did you know?"
"Never mind how I knew," Eunho replies. "Make your choice soon, Bonggu. You have three options, and I hope you'll choose the right one. You've already changed so much, and I hope you'll make the right choice."
Bonggu sucks in a shaky breath. "I don't know," he says miserably. "I know before I said I wouldn't, but I can't help but wonder if forgetting would be easier. Even if I forget what happened, what people said, I won't forget what I felt, right? Isn't that what Yejun meant?"
"I don't think you're getting it." Eunho stands up so he's standing right in front of Bonggu. "That's definitely not why Yejun said it and what he meant by it. I think you're being ridiculously foolish if you're choosing to forget, and even though I'm not supposed to interfere with your decision here, I'm going to say this: you'll have more than just regrets if that's what you're ultimately going to chose."
Bonggu tries to take another breath, but it hurts just to breathe. It hurts not to breathe, too. It hurts either way. "I don't want to make a choice."
"If you don't make a choice, you'll be staying here, and that's making a choice too."
It's hard to keep his eyes opening because of how hard it's raining, be he turns to look at Eunho again. His face is dead serious. "I'll be back in a couple of days," he says, "Make up your mind by then. By the way, I think Yejun's planning the funeral to be quite soon. Possibly in about two days. You might want to get something nice to wear, and I'll find you right after that. I'm going now. And I think the rain is going to stop soon. You might want to go back."
Eunho dissolves into gold dust before his eyes, and the rain washes the shimmer away too. For a long time, Bonggu sits in the rain until he can cry no longer, though it doesn't help with the aching in his chest. Exhausted and spent, he turns and heads back to the house.
Two days. Make a choice.
"I'm leaving soon," Bonggu says, and though he tries, he can't quite meet Yejun's eyes.
They're standing in the garden next to where the funeral was. Though many of the flowers have wilted, there's still a spray of colors amongst the browns and dying yellows. Bonggu catches a glimpse of blue, and they look suspiciously similar to the forget-me-nots that Jonghui got her mother.
Yejun tucks his hands into his pockets, managing a dry smile. His eyes are still red from the funeral, but Bonggu's sure his own are too. "You'll return the suit to me before you leave, right?"
Bonggu bites his lip. Yejun bringing up something so casual in such a situation just makes it all the worse, but he mirrors the half-smile on Yejun's face even though it's undeniably hard. "I will."
"I don't suppose you'll tell me where you're going?" Yejun continues. "Would you have left sooner if you had no idea about Jonghui? Were you planning to leave before? Did you stay because of her, or do you really have no place to stay?" He narrows his eyes. "You're going to at least answer a couple questions before you leave, right? You owe me, anyways."
"To be honest," Bonggu replies, shuffling his feet on the dirt path, "I don't really know where I'm going either. And I'm not too sure if I would've left if I never found out. I think I would've stayed anyways. And no, I had no place to stay. I would've been homeless if you kicked me out that day."
Yejun snorts. "I should've."
"And Yejun…" His voice trails off, but Bonggu forces himself to get the question out. "Aren't you mad? I'm leaving at such a time, and I know that I shouldn't really, but I just…"
"Are you worried I'll be lonely?" It's one of the rare times that Bonggu has heard Yejun joke to him. "But I'm not mad at you. Why should I be? I'm thankful for what you did for her. She really was so much happier, and I've told you before and I'll tell you again — that was really the only thing I wanted for her. I don't care if you seemed really sketchy — you still do — but honestly, that's alright. And if you're going to leave, I'm not going to stop you. At least you came to say goodbye, right?"
Bonggu looks down at his feet. He's wearing Yejun's clothing (again), an extra suit and a pair of shoes that were a bit too big for him. "Thank you, too."
There's an awkward silence, and then Yejun gives a quiet laugh. It sounds more sincere this time. "It hurts now," he says, "but it'll get better. That's what memories are for." He pauses. "There's a group of forget-me-nots over there. It's a miracle they're still alive with this kind of weather. They were Jonghui's favourite flowers."
Bonggu blinks. "Her favourite flowers?"
"Didn't she tell you before?" Yejun keeps his gaze fixed on the flowers. "She likes what they stand for. And there's a simple kind of beauty to them, don't you think?"
Bonggu glances at the flowers too. Theyarepretty, but it wasn't like it was something he didn't know before. For a while, he stares at the blue mist of flowers, wondering when they'll disappear like the fallen leaves and the other flowers around them.
"Well," Yejun says. "Well. I guess you'll be leaving soon, then?"
Bonggu nods. "After this, I think."Even though I still haven't quite made up my mind yet.The funeral wasn't a large one, and it was quiet, but going through the whole thing just brought more uncertainties. The pictures of Jonghui's smile, the sparkle in her eyes… it was still hard to believe it was all gone.
"Goodbye, then," Yejun says almost robotically. And then, completely contrary to his tone of voice, he leans forwards and wraps his arms awkwardly around Bonggu. "Take care."
Something else seems to crumble inside of him. All the suppressed emotion, the fake tone of indifference in Yejun's voice — maybe it's the last thing that causes everything to tumble over. Bonggu bites back tears as Yejun pulls back, and he can barely echo Yejun's words without crying.
And when Yejun finally pulls away and turns around to leave, standing alone in the garden and staring at the forget-me-nots, Bonggu's made his decision.
Chapter 20
Epilogue
"You're an angel," Eunho says. "You're not supposed to be tired so much."
Bonggu glances up at Eunho, the white and gold robes flowing around him, hair silhouetted against the light. He sits down beside him, setting down the sword in his hands.
"I'm not tired," he replies. "It's just nice to look at the sunset and sunrise."
"You have a busy day, though." Eunho is staring at the horizon also, ignoring his own words. "There's a list of souls you have to take from Judgement, then there was one demon that you had to get rid of—"
"It's nottoomuch to miss the sun."
Eunho quiets. "Are you still thinking about her?"
Bonggu traces a pink cloud with a finger. "Yes."
"It's been months. They take a while to sort out all the souls, but… don't you think she'd be gone already? You don't know where she's been sorted — the most I can say is that she's in heaven — but…"
"I said I wouldn't forget."
"Which was a good decision, but—"
"She'll come up here someday, right? The system has to go through her. There's no way she'll end up in hell, and however long it's going to take, I'm going to be here forever anyways, so it's really no difference. I'll wait."
Eunho looks like he wants to say something else, but after a moment of indecision, he gives Bonggu a stiff nod, lips pressed together in a thin line. "I can't guarantee how long you'll wait. The memories are what you want to keep, but is it really worth…?"
You look nice when you smile,she'd said to him.Smile to both of us.
He smiles at Eunho. "It is."
The clouds are changing color now, as the sun rises higher and higher, light washing over them, the pink fading as they return to their original white. Bonggu wonders how Yejun is doing —is he still working as an interpreter? Does Hamin still teach at his dance studio? Does Haejun still teach there with him? Is he living in the same place still, with the same car? Does he cook for himself, even though he can't cook?
"You should go now," Eunho finally says slowly. "You have a lot to do, and you know, don't you?"
Bonggu groans and sits up, adjusting the strap of the sword on his back. "Yes. Judgement first or what?"
"Judgement. I'm off. I have my stuff to do too. I'll see you tonight."
For a while, Bonggu continues to watch as the clouds shift with their pretty patterns, turning into different shapes in the sky before he finally turns toward where the souls will be released.
The place where the seraphim refer to as the Judgement Hall is huge. The place doesn't actually have a very distinct shape, nor is it even a building of some sort. Even now, Bonggu isn't sure how souls enter it, but he's seen the long, unending lines of souls waiting for judgment. Those who come out on one end are lead upwards, and those who don't…
Bonggu blinks around him. He's been in there once or twice, and the floors of the place look like they're made of polished, pure white rock, and the pillars that extend higher than he can see seem to be the same material. Sometimes souls have to wait for days for Judgement, some weeks, some months. The time all feels the same for them, no matter how long it takes.
Group C,Eunho had told him before he left.That's the one you're in charge of today.
Group C…Bonggu scans the souls, all split into groups. Group C would be closer to the front, though there are so many of them there that he isn't too sure. Making his way through the souls, he navigates through the people and tries not to crash into anybody. There are other seraphim around too, though he doesn't recognize most of them. He catches a glimpse of Kang Dojun talking to the other one with large eyes whose name he didn't quite remember, and Kim Taehyun, who everyone says looks like him but Bonggu strongly disagrees.
Group C.The list of names he has in his hand is huge, alphabetically ordered. Just group C is that big. It starts with Ahn Minjun, goes to Bonggu Hani and so on.
He finally spies the group.
The first person in the group waves at him when he approaches, and halfheartedly, Bonggu waves back. His mind has already drifted to watch Eunho had said about the demon. The sooner he gets his job done the sooner he gets to rest. Maybe he won't miss the sunset tonight.
"Hello," he tries as enthusiastically as he can, scanning the whole group. There's a girl in the back that has her head lowered, like she's looking for something. "Just… follow me for now."
He leads them past the Judgement halls and other groups of souls. Beside him, the one that waved at him starts talking.
"Are you an angel?" he pipes. He looks like like he's no older than fifteen, maybe even younger. Heart twisting, Bonggu wonders how he died.
"I am," he replies. "I'm Chae Bonggu. And you are…?"
"Ahn Minjun."
So he was the first one on the list.Bonggu forces out a smile at the boy. "Nice to meet you, Minjun."
He glances at the rest of the group. Their ages range from young — one girl looks younger than Minjun — to old, female to male, tall to short. There's at least forty some people.
He continues walking. Had Jonghui passed like this before, but somehow, he didn't notice? Was she still waiting for Judgement, waiting to be sorted? How long would it be? Maybe she'd chosen to forget like he had the first time.
The sun has risen to almost to the top of the sky when Bonggu turns to look at the group of souls. They're halfway to their destination, and while it would take him much less time flying, the souls can't.
"What's heaven like?" Someone in the group asks, and Bonggu perks up. There's something very familiar about her voice. He scans the group, though the most he can see is the top of the girl's head because she's so short. It's the same person that was looking down when he glanced at the group in the first place.
"Pardon?"
The soul in front of her moves aside and gestures for her to go forward. She lifts her head.
All of a sudden, Bonggu can't breathe. The braids tied with white ribbons look familiar (except this time, they're not lopsided). The way the corners of her lips tilt upwards, like she's always smiling, except Bonggu's known her long enough to recognize that she's not. She's wearing a plaid dress, just like the one she wore on August 17th.
He can't move, can't speak, can't do anything. Everything feels so vivid — sitting under the pouring rain with the flickering streetlight and her extending the umbrella above his head, the first meeting with Yejun, the baby's breath and the forget-me-nots. The lonely white, the hospital rooms. The distinct feeling of the phone ringing and then the dread that followed. The scribble of Korean characters on the white sheet of paper that she'd written.
Jonghui looks confused for a moment, and then her expression morphs into one of surprise. She opens her mouth, snaps it shut, gaze flickering from his face to his wings. He can see the rest of the souls — namely Ahn Minjun — looking at them, but it doesn't seem to matter and they all remain silent anyways.
Bonggu's still frozen. It's surreal. After months of waiting, months of giving-up and then telling himself to hope again, Nam Jonghui is standing in front of him, looking the same like she did before. Perhaps less tired. Brighter. Happier.
And then she breaks into a real smile. Her eyes are shining, more full of life than Bonggu remembered, and he finds himself smiling back too.
"Chae Bonggu," she says, and the three syllables mean perhaps everything. "Chae Bonggu."
.
