The passage of time for humans feels much longer than it does for shinigami, and though Rem supposes the reason for this might simply be that shinigami have a more literal relationship with eternity, she thinks it's perhaps more likely that it's because shinigami never do anything. Living so idly, spending each day exactly as the day before, months and years become indistinguishable, such that one might blink (not blink, humans blink) and find a century has passed. There's no sun or moon in the shinigami realm, just a dimly illuminating sheen to keep what scarce objects exist in that world visible. But then, Rem has been to many a human history class by now, knows that humans label scarce existences as resources, that more can be made from what little is already there. Shinigami share no such creativity, and the longer Rem thinks of the world she used to occupy the more she can come to understand Ryuk, despicable as she may still consider him to be. Even as he derided her for her failure to act like a shinigami, she knows he too must have believed that humans have something more than the two of them did.
Jumin in particular seems always full of ideas, in class or pointing through windows as the pair of them circle the shopping district, thoughts on how the architecture of particular buildings could have been altered, how empires might have kept their power had they done one thing or another differently. Rem knows he learns some of this way of thinking from the business classes he attends, tutors and exclusive after-school programs paid for by his father in hopes that Jumin may one day succeed him as the president of C&R International, the company founded by his own grandparents. But most of Jumin's way of thinking is his own, spending time in the library learning about subjects that no business tutor would ever tell him to study and finding ways to turn them into projects, writing each idea and a brief outline in various identical bound notebooks, purple and manufactured by the same brand under his family's company title.
Rem doesn't consider herself to be much more or less innovative now than she was as a shinigami, though she's a good enough listener and quick enough thinker that Jumin consults her on his various conceptualizations, as if Jihyun were some kind of authority with any capacity to assess the products of his more intelligent, inventive, and knowledgeable friend's mind. She wonders what Jumin would think if he knew that Jihyun had had millennia of opportunity to learn the secrets of the world and at the end of it came away with less knowledge than Jumin had acquired in his fourteen years of life.
Her friend is framed by the classroom window behind him, large flakes of snow drifting slowly to the ground. The changing seasons are perhaps the only things that make time feel it's passing by quickly in this world, frost creeping across windows before Rem's even registered that summer has ended. Jihyun's parents become all but invisible in the wintertime, using the snowfall as an excuse to remain indoors when they're at home, locked up inside their studio. This year, they don't even exit for food, having bought a studio refrigerator to make it more convenient for them to remain working all day. Winter is also a time for global exhibits and performances, the duo travelling the world with art and sheet music to be seen by all except their son. The empty house is unnerving without even the sound of piano notes to keep him company, and so nearly every year Jihyun spends Christmas with Jumin's family, partaking in their dinner and visits to the church for his own mother's annual concert before being swept up in other festivities. Jumin complains about the company chairman, but Jihyun is grateful that he lets him spend so much time with their family, that he sets aside a dinner once a year for his son.
The other part of their celebrations is letter writing, the only idea between the two of them that has ever been Jihyun's. Jumin had been expressing his personal disdain for the traditions of Christmas—Rem was listening, she had nothing personal against the holiday other than that she could hardly be considered Christian—complaining that it's simply a capitalist scheme for civilians to spend all their money on corporate goods and then all of January scrambling in debt to the banks. Jihyun doesn't really see how any of this affects Jumin specifically, as his family owns a large company and Jihyun doubts buying expensive gifts is much of a strain on him, but he'd eventually confessed his real reason for broaching the subject at all: despite his contempt for the traditions, he still wanted to give a gift to his best friend as per custom, and couldn't think of anything that could be bought with money that didn't make him want to retch at the thought.
The suggestion itself was a joke, a quote straight from Misa's mouth from before Jumin was even born: "Well, it'd be best if you wrote me a love letter, of course."
But Jumin didn't laugh, rather fixed Jihyun in a serious look with his eyebrows drawn down, "A Christmas letter, huh."
Rem quickly tried to recover, but Jumin made up his mind with a firm nod. "That settles it, then. And I expect you to write me one back, you know."
"But my handwriting…" Rem reminded him in faint protest, and Jumin seemed to straighten even higher than his regular posture, a feat Rem had seldom imagined possible.
"I can read it."
Five years later, Jihyun struggles against his urge to retrieve a half-finished letter from his bag as Jumin explains to him his vision for the project they'll be working on as partners. Jumin's dark hair against the backdrop of white snow, the navy sweater vest he wears over his uniform adding colour to the monochromatic world already superior to the shinigami realm in its starkness—it's difficult not to want to write about it when it's the only thing she's felt inspired by in the last week.
"Jihyun."
"I'm sorry," she says, turning her attention to the diagram he's drawn and passed over to her. His lines are so clean, always insisting on using a ruler though he can draw perfectly straight lines even without one.
Jumin waits, and Jihyun studies it carefully, owing him at least that much for failing to pay attention. "… That looks good," she finally says, as if she would've said anything else either way.
Jumin nods and takes the paper back. "Then, you're all right with doing the drawings?"
"…Hm?"
"Well, we're making a poster," he elaborates. "It'll need some kind of visual element, and your mother is the famous painter Seonho Kim, so you're better qualified than I am." Rem stares at him, and Jumin cracks a smile. "No? Well, I was teasing you, anyway."
Rem prefers Jumin's concept of teasing to Misa's. At least Jumin could only kill Jihyun with anxiety about trying to hold a pencil steadily enough to make shapes.
"I was thinking the poster will look more professional with actual photos instead of drawings, anyhow," Jumin says. "Since it's about winter tourism in Korea I think now would be a pertinent time to take them."
"Pertinent," Rem echoes.
"It means suitable."
"Yes, I know."
Jihyun smiles and Jumin rolls his eyes before continuing, "Since you're so preoccupied with what's outside the window instead of with listening to me, I thought it'd make sense to leave the job of taking the photos to you."
Rem feels her cheeks heat at Jumin's deadpan tone and glances away. She's taken photos on phones before, because Jihyun supposedly has a face that makes people feel comfortable asking him to do so in public when they'd like a group image, but taking her own photos in the human world isn't something that's really occurred to her before. Photography reminds her of Misa, of photo shoots, of the amount of attention Jihyun used to receive as a baby that he's hardly received any similar measure of since, though strangers still stop him on the street to tell him he's handsome.
"I can try," she agrees reluctantly, if only because Jumin's doing most of the rest of the work and she hates burdening him. That's another strange thing about being human—the capacity to burden people.
"I'll leave it to you, then," he says.
Despite the discomfort of the chill air, Rem still finds it regrettable to wear a coat outside. The sensation of being cold hasn't stopped being new even though she's been human more than a decade now. The biting feeling in her skin, the ache of her bones, the dryness and teetering at the edge of collapse into the ever punishing snow—unfamiliar, unpleasant, and yet the extremity of it is more than anything she'd ever known for thousands of years, so it's not entirely unwelcome. Excess could always kill humans—too much cold, too much heat, too much love, though that last one could kill anybody.
She and Jumin part at the school gates when his chauffeur arrives, saying their goodbyes with puffs of mist in the air. Usually she rides home with him in the shiny black car, but today she's going to lunch with Yunseo.
Yunseo moved out years ago, barely even a week after her graduation from high school. She'd secretly been packing her things up to leave for almost a month prior, and their parents didn't notice until she announced that she was going. As far as Jihyun knows, Yunseo hasn't spoken to them since then, but twice a week she picks Jihyun up from school to go for lunch together. Yunseo never told Jihyun to keep it a secret from their parents. She didn't need to.
Jihyun removes his glove for a moment to check the time on his phone. Yunseo wouldn't be here for another fifteen minutes, so Rem traces the perimeter of the school to the garden. Most of the plants can't be maintained in the winter, but there's a bush whose red berries can be seen poking up through the snow that might look nice in a photo for she and Jumin's project. She fumbles a little to open the camera app with her numbing fingers.
It feels strange to photograph something other than a person, circling the bush for different angles as she'd seen some photographers do with Misa, unsure if this is actually necessary for a bush that looks more or less the same on all sides. She lowers herself to one knee, snow soaking through her black uniform pants as she takes a photo from below. This feels awfully silly.
Once her fingers feel like they'll lose all sensation if she takes any more photos, she replaces her glove and moves the phone to her clumsier right hand to check the camera roll.
One, two, three… nine different photos of the same bush, and Rem finds her breath hitching as she scrolls through them and at a loss to explain why. This bush with the red berries, the same one she'd seen months ago in this same place but bare of snow, small flower buds blossoming in the sun of spring, now one sole sign of life in the winter whiteness.
She starts when she hears the honk of a car, running back around to the school gates where her sister's car is parked. Yunseo's car is silver, professional, not as expensive as the others in the parking lot but not looking entirely out of place, either.
Yunseo laughs when Jihyun crashes with a pant and red cheeks into the passenger seat. "Were you waiting outside?" she asks.
Jihyun nods mutely.
"You know I always come at the exact same time," Yunseo says, looking over her shoulder as she backs out of the lot. "You should've waited inside so you don't get sick."
The school seems to get smaller as they drive away, pulling onto the main streets to go toward downtown. Yunseo loves downtown, with the tall buildings and bright lights and people everywhere. When she lived with them, she'd sometimes ask their parents why the family never went downtown together, but their parents would only exchange knowing glances and change the subject. The university is in the middle of the city, though, and Yunseo's lived in various different apartments in the area over the last ten years.
Rem wonders if they'll be meeting anyone else when they arrive at the bistro Yunseo likes. Introducing her brother to people seems to be a hobby of hers, colleagues and old college friends shaking his hand and telling him they've heard a lot about him. Jihyun has no idea what Yunseo could possibly be telling them, given that his biggest accomplishment thus far is that he's friends with Jumin Han, and he hasn't told Yunseo about that.
"I'm trying to create opportunities for you," Yunseo said once. "Networking is important, and I don't want you to have to struggle with that on your own."
Unlike Yunseo, Rem is not ambitious and likely has no use for networks, but Yunseo's friends are kind and she smiles a lot when she's with them, so she doesn't mind.
"It's just the two of us today," Yunseo says, pushing open the little restaurant door and letting Jihyun walk in first. "Actually, I have something to tell you."
The 'actually' makes Jihyun's heart speed a little, momentarily forgetting how to greet the host who seats them. For the first few minutes, it's silent.
"How's school?" Yunseo asks, forcing Rem to shift her focus away from the water she'd been very carefully sipping.
"It's fine," she answers. She doesn't understand why humans ask questions like this. Most of them aren't genuinely interested, though in Yunseo's case Rem supposes it's possible she really does want to know.
"That's good," Yunseo says. "Doing well in school is important."
Rem's not sure she'd describe herself as doing well in school, though she's not failing anything either.
Yunseo takes the lack of response as an invitation to launch into an overview of her life since the last time they'd met. She describes that her company had just completed the project she'd been telling Jihyun about the last few times they'd met, and recounts stories of incidents that happened at work, the sound of her raspy laugh filling the restaurant. Jihyun can't really focus on anything she's saying, poking through his bean sprout appetizer. Yunseo quiets when their meals are placed in front of them, speaking only to comment on how much she enjoys the food, until she's finished about three quarters of her dish and puts down her chopsticks, lacing her fingers together under her chin.
"You're really cute, huh?" she laughs softly, and Rem raises her head sharply to fix her in a wide-eyed stare. Yunseo laughs again. "See? You're always so shy and quiet and you make such adorable faces."
"… Adorable?" It's not a word Rem would use for herself, and she's not sure she likes it. Yunseo nods emphatically, then turns her gaze down to her bowl.
"I'm gonna miss that," she murmurs.
"What do you mean?" Rem asks before she can stop herself, leaning closer to the table and resting her chopsticks down.
"Ah, right." Rem raises her eyebrows, wishing Yunseo wouldn't pretend to have forgotten and get to the point. "Well, see, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
The restaurant still bustles with people for lunchtime, conversations that can be easily overheard occurring at the tables around them, and Rem tries to calm herself by rationalizing that were it something truly dangerous Yunseo wouldn't talk about it here.
"Well, you see," Yunseo says slowly. "I'm moving."
"Oh."
Jihyun's sister pauses, picks up her chopsticks for another bite, and then makes eye contact with Jihyun. "… to Germany."
"Oh," Jihyun says again. He's almost certain that this isn't the correct response, but the fact Rem has improved at speaking to human classmates and teachers over the years has done little to nothing in helping her learn to speak with her own family. Germany? Rem doesn't know exactly where that is; somewhere in Europe, though, which is far. Certainly far enough that she and her sister would be unlikely to keep meeting up twice a week.
"You're not curious why?" Yunseo asks with a grave expression, but Rem can hear amusement in her voice.
"No… uh, that is. Yes, I mean," Rem fumbles. "I mean, why?"
Yunseo watches her carefully and Rem flushes, like if Yunseo looked any closer her skin might fall away to expose a shinigami body underneath. Uncomfortable, she reaches again for the water, but Yunseo maintains her gaze.
After Rem's taken a few sips, Yunseo clears her throat.
"Well, I never told you this," Yunseo starts. "But basically, a lot of the work I do involves, like… international communication. And there's this one person I work with, who… well, you know, I added her on social media to make it easier for work."
Rem nods. She's done the same thing for projects before.
"Well, we ended up becoming really close friends. And then we started dating… this was all, like… six years ago."
Six years?
"And… yeah. A position opened up for an international contact where she works, so I'm going to Germany to live with her. I'm probably gonna stay there for a long time."
"Oh."
Yunseo scratches her neck. "Obviously, I'm not planning on saying anything to our parents. I'm not gonna ask you to keep it quiet or anything if they ask about me, though, which I doubt they will. But I wanted to tell you."
"Okay…" Rem mumbles, unsure quite how to process this. Yunseo reaches across the table to touch her shoulder and Rem nearly jumps.
"My flight is scheduled for two weeks from now, so this isn't the last time we'll see each other before I go," Yunseo says. "You can save any tears and whatever for then, okay?"
She gives Jihyun a wink. Rem's not sure she's cried a single time in over ten years, but she nods weakly and wishes she knew what to say in this situation. Yunseo handles Jihyun's silence with grace, perhaps used to it by now and not wanting to risk hurting their relationship during one of their last meetings by mentioning it. She changes the subject to start describing her secret girlfriend of six years to Jihyun; smart, forward-thinking, had initially moved to Germany for university, hoping to study environmental engineering and one day bring what she'd learned back to her home country. Yunseo's eyes sparkle when she talks, and for once Jihyun finds himself completely engrossed in what the older girl is saying. The sound of her voice—melodious, excited, ready to take her things and cross the continent to be with the person she loves, determination set in her face borne from an ingenuity that could only remind Rem of one person, one person who surely wouldn't hesitate to leave to her love's side either. They're sitting by a window, just as Jihyun and Jumin had been earlier that day, the gentle snowfall having started again sometime since they entered, creating the illusion that Yunseo is glowing in the yellow bistro lights, shining smile on her lips, and Rem realizes she's fished her phone out of her coat pocket.
Yunseo watches her a moment, smile unfading as she blinks interest in what Jihyun is doing. He tucks a stray hair behind his ear, a little too long, a little overdue for a cut before spring arrives.
"Can I take your picture?"
A/N: I've given up on trying to keep up a consistent update schedule on this fic. At the very least I can say it's not abandoned and I am determined to actually finish it... someday. I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters- this one is a little longer than the previous ones, consider that my method of making up for not updating in the last five months (ohgodhowhasitbeenfivemonths).
... I know Miley Cyrus has a song with the same title as this chapter but to be fair I have never listened to that song and the title was too perfect to pass up even though I'm cursing that she got to it first. Wah. As always, reviews are appreciated, and thank you again for reading and for waiting!