Little Things
Title: Little Things
Pairing: Jonglo
Rating: PG
Type: One Shot
Genre: Angst/Fluff
❊❊❊
This wasn't a grocery list of bread, biscuits, butter. Wasn't necessarily an appointment, nor a meeting. But there was this particular date that Jongup had to remember. One that he rehearsed thoroughly. The numbers stuck out like sore thumbs from the crevices of his mind. They washed repeatedly over his dreams and tugged at his blankets when the sun rose in the morning. He had to remember and it was something he had to do by himself.
Jongup had terrible memory. But it's not like the boy didn't try. He was just bad at remembering things. That explained why he got an F at history because he got all the dates mixed up, not to mention all the names sounded similar to him. Columbus fought the battle of waterloo and Napoleon discovered New America in 1815. To make things worse, he wrote "Napoleon" as "Neapolitan". The teacher must've had a fun time laughing at the ridiculousness of his answers. But it wasn't his fault the man's name sounded questionably similar to icecream. There was one name however, that he was sure he would never forget. From the first time he heard that name he knew deep down that it was imprinted in an ink that was more permanent than any tattoo. An ink that would remain unchanged despite the fading of the canvass.
"There's a new student in our school. He'll be joining us in the caterpillar room! His name is junhong. Let's welcome him!"
A bright smile from the new kid and that was all it took. Jongup was scrambling to get out of the suffocating infatuation. But jongup was glad he never was able to get out of it. They were about four and five then. And they became smitten. They became room mates in high school and junhong had never been busier in his life. He had entrusted jongup with the payment of some of the bills, only to find the matron knocking on their door, chiding them for their lateness. That was when jongup's eyes would widen, glancing over to the stack of bills and forms he'd left untouched by the side table. Junhong realized that the matron was going to be a regular visitor unless he took charge of the bills. Which he did. Junhong was good at remembering big things like that.
Jongup asked junhong out in spring. They were both about ten and everyone laughed at how cute they were, but deep down inside a cynical voice said that they wouldn't last. But oh they did. Junhong received flowers on different dates in spring every year. Flowers in the hands of a brown-haired boy trying to hide his sheepish smile. "Happy anniversary... Baby..." there was only one occasion in which jongup called junhong "baby" and it was that. When he had flowers in his hand and a blush threatening to consume his face. Junhong would blush too, his pale skin turning a delicious scarlet and his toothy grin would be hidden behind his hand. "Jonguppie hyung! You got the wrong date again!" junhong thought it was impossible how someone could get it wrong every year, but that was jongup after all. Unlike junhong, he was bad at remembering the big things. They would both laugh it off anyways. It didn't matter. One time junhong asked jongup out on a dinner date and it took far to long before jongup realized it was Valentine's day. He leapt up in the middle of dinner and ran to the nearest store to buy anything that was red, fluffy and had hearts on it. Junhong didn't really mind. Because that's how jongup was. The boy even forgot his own birthday. He was just that bad at remembering the big things.
But god must have wired jongup's brain differently because it was the little things that jongup remembered well. Like how many sugar cubes to put in junhong's tea to get the right amount of sweetness that would chase away his morning blues. Like how junhong liked his apples cut in quarters with the skin on. He remembered that junhong liked the ends of the baguette loaf and would always leave that portion untouched for him. He knew to ask for ice cream in a cup instead of a cone because the wafer cones made junhong feel unnecessarily full. When they ate together, jongup would portion the dishes accordingly, constantly reminding himself to leave some for junhong. Because the boy often saved his favorite dishes for the last. "I like oranges... I just hate everything that's orange flavored." jongup kept this piece of information tucked snugly in his mind. When it came to sharing a pack of sweets, he ate everything that was orange flavored so junhong didn't have to. So much so that Jongup was starting to develop a distaste towards that shade and flavor as well, but it didn't matter, because then he'd get to see junhong's face light up whenever he picks up a purple sweet from the bag and that was way sweeter than all the purple sweets in the world combined.
Living in the same dorm gave jongup more things to remember. Like how junhong liked his ramyun more hard than soggy and how he had a child-like habit of ruffling his bleached blonde hair when he's sleepy. Jongup would then carry him to his bed and tuck him under the sheets, wrap him up in a cocoon and kiss him goodnight. Tell him how much he loved him. Because that's what junhong clung on to at the end of every day. And jongup remembered what those three quiet words meant to junhong, so jongup whispered them to him whenever he got the chance. Junhong was a messy sleeper, just like jongup. He'd wake up in the middle of the night shivering and in a fit of sneezing, his blanket would lie orphaned on the floor. That's why jongup cultivated this routine of waking up in the middle of the night to wrap junhong up like a dumpling again before planting a kiss on his cheek. He would lean over, hear those unintelligible murmurs escape junhong's lips before shuffling back to sleep. Jongup also noticed that junhong always forgot to bring his jacket out when it's cold. Maybe it's coz his mind was already busied with the bigger things. So jongup would make sure he brought his out so junhong could wear it. The motive wasn't solely altruistic though. A more selfish reason was that jongup liked the way junhong looked in his clothes. It gave him assurance. That everyone would know junhong is his. He was marked, inked, with jongup's dainty initials on his heart, like a warm kiss on a cold day.
Junhong was always surprised by how jongup could remember the little things. Those that the rest of the world deem too insignificant to remember. Jongup remembered what junhong wore the first time he walked into the caterpillar room. The first time they met. He had this puffy black jacket on to ward off the cold and pants that had many pockets on them. Junhong couldn't even remember he owned those clothes. Jongup was still able to recall that when they were five and six, junhong had convinced him that the mushrooms he has picked off the side of the road from a rotting log were magical. They both landed in the hospital with severe food poisoning hours later. He could even remember what junhong said to him. "Jonguppie hyung? I don't think the mushrooms are magical..." It was weird, but jongup had enjoyed that hospital stay more than he should. Maybe it was because junhong had been there with him too, feeding him his medicine like a make-pretend doctor.
Despite jongup’s uncanny ability to remember the little things, junhong sometimes wished that he would remember the big things as well. Junhong would often shake his head and chuckle, waving off the idea of a jongup that actually had good memory. He would then open his mouth and accept the vitamins that jongup would feed him, thinking it rather ironic that jongup would remember to remind him at such precision for something with so little significance, when the dates of his major tests always find a way to slip out of his grasp. Vitamins were important, you see. But that always made the pills go down faster; painlessly.
But this time jongup was going to prove junhong wrong. That he could remember the big things too. This time there was this particular date that jongup had to remember. One that he rehearsed thoroughly. The numbers stuck out like sore thumbs from the crevices in his mind. They washed over his dreams repeatedly and tugged at his blankets when the sun rose in the morning. The numbers were as good as tattooed in his heart, beside the brilliant one of junhong's name. Because this time junhong wouldn't be able to help him remember. It was something he had to do himself. Something the teachers at school would call responsibility and taking ownership. Jongup slipped his arms in the jacket of the suit. It housed a crisp black shirt underneath. He buttoned the sleeves of his jacket and examined himself in the mirror. Jongup remembered how junhong preferred the black shirt over the white one. He had said the white one made jongup look like a waiter. He could almost see junhong in the reflection, snaking his arms around his waist and telling him how good he looked. His heartbeat accelerated at the thought of seeing junhong. Jongup would remember every word he said, write it down religiously on a piece of paper made of nothingness that he kept close to his heart. But jongup wouldn't believe him, because he stubbornly believes that no one could look as good in a suit as junhong did. He would smile though, the brightest smile he could offer. The one that always came naturally when he was around junhong. The one that junhong always found comfort in. "Alright then... Time to go..." jongup sighed, managing a slight smile, one that wavered with the increasingly loud pounding of his heart. He took the bus to the nearest florist, the one that he visited often. Junhong had once told him that he didn't need to waste his money on intricacies like flowers. They didn't really matter to him. But jongup notices the heated scarlet and the trickle of a smile that made their way up junhong's features when he receives the bouquet of well-arranged petals. And they spoke louder than the shy murmurs coming out of junhong's mouth. He looked at the bucket full of roses. Junhong liked the yellow ones. But jongup picked up the white ones this time. Junhong always talked about how different flowers were meant for different occasions and to mix them up was considered rude in many cultures. Jongup remembers this and thought that there was no more appropriate color then that creamy shade of white. You see, he remembers the little things.
He got on the cab and stopped in front of a large structure that was majestic like the sun. He always liked accompanying junhong to the church. He wasn't much of a religious guy himself, but he liked watching junhong pray. Junhong didn't usually ask for much, he already had everything he could ever want, vested in the brown haired boy beside him. "What did you pray for this time?" jongup would ask, shifting rather awkwardly in the pews. "For you... For us... So we could be like this forever... I thanked god for you..." junhong would reply, lacing his hand into jongup's. Jongup would nod and grip the hand that felt snug against his own. He was thoroughly convinced that they'd be like this forever. Confident that those memories, those little things he remembered of junhong would play out everyday like a classic movie that he'll never get sick of; always charming, always welcoming, always harboring the same bittersweetness. He was so convinced that he would always wake up to see junhong asleep on the toilet cover while brushing his teeth, that he would chuckle at junhong when he danced across the kitchen while cooking. That he would be there to watch junhong's eyes light up whenever he remembers the little things.
He was early, so he sat the back of the church, in that familiar spot that junhong would sit at. He could almost smell the traces of pine mingling with the particles in the air. That faint scent that he remembers to be junhong's favorite soap. But he would refuse to believe that the smell was but a memory in his mind, that it was just one of the little things he remembers. At this point he clasped his hands together and bowed his head, brown mop of hair touching the pew in front of him. He didn't pray, no. Just hoped that god would understand what was going on in his mind, to pat him on the back and say "Jonguppie, these feelings will pass." But these feelings weren't going to pass, the little things weren't going to fade out of his busied mind. Jongup can't help but remember.
It's time, jonguppie hyung.
Jongup walked out the church headed towards the grass. Carpet grass interrupted by grey slabs. He had been here with junhong before. He remembers. Junhong had a strange attraction to the cemetery. It's quiet here. Peaceful. He'd say. And jongup couldn't help but to agree. The place didn't smell of death, no. It just smelt normal, still, peaceful. They'd sit at the bench under the tree or the one next to that wide path and talk. Being in a cemetery never bothered either of them. Junhong was brave like that. He wasn't afraid of ghosts or poltergeists or whatever. He didn't believe in them. Junhong was afraid of butterflies though. It was irrational, but junhong hated them. He didn't know why he had to be scared of them out of all things. It was so unmanly. Little flurry of wings, glass eyes. Why? Jongup once asked. B-because they'll... Lay eggs in my brain... Every time jongup thought about it he'd chuckle to himself. But butterflies were serious business when it came to junhong. That's why jongup remembers to hold him a little closer and a little tighter whenever he sees one approaching. He would hold junhong's head near his chest and make sure the butterflies don't stand a chance with his brain. He protected junhong from the egg-laying menaces. Jongup was junhong's hero. It was ironic though, because jongup was the one who put butterflies in junhong's stomach. But those butterflies were okay. Junhong didn't mind those. Because they had jongup's name painted carefully on their wings. Painted with jongup's sincerity, the touch of his rough hands, his smile that radiated sunbeams, the syrup-lined words escaping his lips and the little things he remembered. Junhong would make an exception for the butterflies that resided in his belly. Those butterflies were strangely enticing, just like jongup was. And they definitely wouldn't lay eggs in his brain.
The chairs were arranged in neat rows around a neatly cut dip in the soil. Jongup took his seat at the back row, fingers finding their way to the soft petals of the white rose. He was careful with it, just as careful as he was with junhong.
People were taking turns to speak. They were talking about junhong. How he was a good kid, a talented kid. Jongup's lips curved into a sad smile as those words passed his ears. None describing perfectly the warmth of junhong's hands, how his fingers curved beautifully between jongup's, or the sparkle in his eyes when he smiled. None could cover junhong's personality. He was electric, like cold sherbet on a summer's day. Like a warm nuance on winter's palette. Like a glimmer in pitch darkness. No one would talk about how cute junhong looked when he chewed his pen. Or how he would tie double knots in his laces still, because he hated having to retie them. No one would notice how his face lit up when his favorite advertisement jingle came on. Or how he'd recount all that happened in the day before he slept.
But jongup knew. Jongup knew all too well. He was junhong's hero after all. The hero who remembered the little things. The little things that the world chose to overlook. The little things that junhong himself doesn't realize. The little things that meant the world to junhong. Jongup traced his fingers gently over the jagged edges of the leaves on the stalk. He wondered if junhong remembered jongup saying that he was his hero. Because Junhong really was jongup's hero, not the other way around. That's what jongup thought. Because junhong saved him. Saved him from being like everyone else, saved him from the harsh grasp of reality and gave him something tangible to believe in. But junhong's mind was always busied with the bigger things. Like reminding jongup he had to take responsibility for the rent from now on. And how he should start writing down important dates on the calendar so he would remember the bigger things too. And how he had to promise to be happy. As happy as always.
The talking stopped and everyone rose from their seats. A line was formed and they passed the pit on the ground one by one. Jongup was the last. He knelt beside the hole, now filled with that black polished box.
"Junhonggie... I did it... I told you I could do it... I remembered..." jongup's lips curved into a smile. He could almost feel junhong ruffling his hair, praising him for the amazing feat. He felt something tugging at his heart, it hurt, more than anything he's ever hurt before. "Junhong... I love you..." jongup knew junhong was always occupied with the big things. So he hoped that his whisper was loud enough to be considered to be something big. Because junhong would always remember the big things. Jongup dropped the rose on the coffin and turned to walk away. His goodbyes to junhong were always hurried, and this was no exception. That's because junhong hated goodbyes. He hated seeing jongup drop that smile on his face for an expression that spoke of his longing. Junhong wanted to remember jongup by his smile. And he absolutely hated people crying. Because then he wouldn't know what to do with the situation. Jongup remembers. So he left junhong with one last smile. A bright one. One that would unstitch the seams of the clouds that hung low above him. One that would weave its way past the famed silver lining, so junhong could see it. And when he does see it, he'll smile back from heaven, a toothy grin that would warm the earth, a chuckle as beautiful as the wind rustling by jongup's ear.
Jongup would remember that laugh for as long as time itself. He would remember the violent flurry in his stomach even after the butterflies in Junhong's stomach had faded to moths.
Because Jongup remembers the little things.
Pairing: Jonglo
Rating: PG
Type: One Shot
Genre: Angst/Fluff
❊❊❊
This wasn't a grocery list of bread, biscuits, butter. Wasn't necessarily an appointment, nor a meeting. But there was this particular date that Jongup had to remember. One that he rehearsed thoroughly. The numbers stuck out like sore thumbs from the crevices of his mind. They washed repeatedly over his dreams and tugged at his blankets when the sun rose in the morning. He had to remember and it was something he had to do by himself.
Jongup had terrible memory. But it's not like the boy didn't try. He was just bad at remembering things. That explained why he got an F at history because he got all the dates mixed up, not to mention all the names sounded similar to him. Columbus fought the battle of waterloo and Napoleon discovered New America in 1815. To make things worse, he wrote "Napoleon" as "Neapolitan". The teacher must've had a fun time laughing at the ridiculousness of his answers. But it wasn't his fault the man's name sounded questionably similar to icecream. There was one name however, that he was sure he would never forget. From the first time he heard that name he knew deep down that it was imprinted in an ink that was more permanent than any tattoo. An ink that would remain unchanged despite the fading of the canvass.
"There's a new student in our school. He'll be joining us in the caterpillar room! His name is junhong. Let's welcome him!"
A bright smile from the new kid and that was all it took. Jongup was scrambling to get out of the suffocating infatuation. But jongup was glad he never was able to get out of it. They were about four and five then. And they became smitten. They became room mates in high school and junhong had never been busier in his life. He had entrusted jongup with the payment of some of the bills, only to find the matron knocking on their door, chiding them for their lateness. That was when jongup's eyes would widen, glancing over to the stack of bills and forms he'd left untouched by the side table. Junhong realized that the matron was going to be a regular visitor unless he took charge of the bills. Which he did. Junhong was good at remembering big things like that.
Jongup asked junhong out in spring. They were both about ten and everyone laughed at how cute they were, but deep down inside a cynical voice said that they wouldn't last. But oh they did. Junhong received flowers on different dates in spring every year. Flowers in the hands of a brown-haired boy trying to hide his sheepish smile. "Happy anniversary... Baby..." there was only one occasion in which jongup called junhong "baby" and it was that. When he had flowers in his hand and a blush threatening to consume his face. Junhong would blush too, his pale skin turning a delicious scarlet and his toothy grin would be hidden behind his hand. "Jonguppie hyung! You got the wrong date again!" junhong thought it was impossible how someone could get it wrong every year, but that was jongup after all. Unlike junhong, he was bad at remembering the big things. They would both laugh it off anyways. It didn't matter. One time junhong asked jongup out on a dinner date and it took far to long before jongup realized it was Valentine's day. He leapt up in the middle of dinner and ran to the nearest store to buy anything that was red, fluffy and had hearts on it. Junhong didn't really mind. Because that's how jongup was. The boy even forgot his own birthday. He was just that bad at remembering the big things.
But god must have wired jongup's brain differently because it was the little things that jongup remembered well. Like how many sugar cubes to put in junhong's tea to get the right amount of sweetness that would chase away his morning blues. Like how junhong liked his apples cut in quarters with the skin on. He remembered that junhong liked the ends of the baguette loaf and would always leave that portion untouched for him. He knew to ask for ice cream in a cup instead of a cone because the wafer cones made junhong feel unnecessarily full. When they ate together, jongup would portion the dishes accordingly, constantly reminding himself to leave some for junhong. Because the boy often saved his favorite dishes for the last. "I like oranges... I just hate everything that's orange flavored." jongup kept this piece of information tucked snugly in his mind. When it came to sharing a pack of sweets, he ate everything that was orange flavored so junhong didn't have to. So much so that Jongup was starting to develop a distaste towards that shade and flavor as well, but it didn't matter, because then he'd get to see junhong's face light up whenever he picks up a purple sweet from the bag and that was way sweeter than all the purple sweets in the world combined.
Living in the same dorm gave jongup more things to remember. Like how junhong liked his ramyun more hard than soggy and how he had a child-like habit of ruffling his bleached blonde hair when he's sleepy. Jongup would then carry him to his bed and tuck him under the sheets, wrap him up in a cocoon and kiss him goodnight. Tell him how much he loved him. Because that's what junhong clung on to at the end of every day. And jongup remembered what those three quiet words meant to junhong, so jongup whispered them to him whenever he got the chance. Junhong was a messy sleeper, just like jongup. He'd wake up in the middle of the night shivering and in a fit of sneezing, his blanket would lie orphaned on the floor. That's why jongup cultivated this routine of waking up in the middle of the night to wrap junhong up like a dumpling again before planting a kiss on his cheek. He would lean over, hear those unintelligible murmurs escape junhong's lips before shuffling back to sleep. Jongup also noticed that junhong always forgot to bring his jacket out when it's cold. Maybe it's coz his mind was already busied with the bigger things. So jongup would make sure he brought his out so junhong could wear it. The motive wasn't solely altruistic though. A more selfish reason was that jongup liked the way junhong looked in his clothes. It gave him assurance. That everyone would know junhong is his. He was marked, inked, with jongup's dainty initials on his heart, like a warm kiss on a cold day.
Junhong was always surprised by how jongup could remember the little things. Those that the rest of the world deem too insignificant to remember. Jongup remembered what junhong wore the first time he walked into the caterpillar room. The first time they met. He had this puffy black jacket on to ward off the cold and pants that had many pockets on them. Junhong couldn't even remember he owned those clothes. Jongup was still able to recall that when they were five and six, junhong had convinced him that the mushrooms he has picked off the side of the road from a rotting log were magical. They both landed in the hospital with severe food poisoning hours later. He could even remember what junhong said to him. "Jonguppie hyung? I don't think the mushrooms are magical..." It was weird, but jongup had enjoyed that hospital stay more than he should. Maybe it was because junhong had been there with him too, feeding him his medicine like a make-pretend doctor.
Despite jongup’s uncanny ability to remember the little things, junhong sometimes wished that he would remember the big things as well. Junhong would often shake his head and chuckle, waving off the idea of a jongup that actually had good memory. He would then open his mouth and accept the vitamins that jongup would feed him, thinking it rather ironic that jongup would remember to remind him at such precision for something with so little significance, when the dates of his major tests always find a way to slip out of his grasp. Vitamins were important, you see. But that always made the pills go down faster; painlessly.
But this time jongup was going to prove junhong wrong. That he could remember the big things too. This time there was this particular date that jongup had to remember. One that he rehearsed thoroughly. The numbers stuck out like sore thumbs from the crevices in his mind. They washed over his dreams repeatedly and tugged at his blankets when the sun rose in the morning. The numbers were as good as tattooed in his heart, beside the brilliant one of junhong's name. Because this time junhong wouldn't be able to help him remember. It was something he had to do himself. Something the teachers at school would call responsibility and taking ownership. Jongup slipped his arms in the jacket of the suit. It housed a crisp black shirt underneath. He buttoned the sleeves of his jacket and examined himself in the mirror. Jongup remembered how junhong preferred the black shirt over the white one. He had said the white one made jongup look like a waiter. He could almost see junhong in the reflection, snaking his arms around his waist and telling him how good he looked. His heartbeat accelerated at the thought of seeing junhong. Jongup would remember every word he said, write it down religiously on a piece of paper made of nothingness that he kept close to his heart. But jongup wouldn't believe him, because he stubbornly believes that no one could look as good in a suit as junhong did. He would smile though, the brightest smile he could offer. The one that always came naturally when he was around junhong. The one that junhong always found comfort in. "Alright then... Time to go..." jongup sighed, managing a slight smile, one that wavered with the increasingly loud pounding of his heart. He took the bus to the nearest florist, the one that he visited often. Junhong had once told him that he didn't need to waste his money on intricacies like flowers. They didn't really matter to him. But jongup notices the heated scarlet and the trickle of a smile that made their way up junhong's features when he receives the bouquet of well-arranged petals. And they spoke louder than the shy murmurs coming out of junhong's mouth. He looked at the bucket full of roses. Junhong liked the yellow ones. But jongup picked up the white ones this time. Junhong always talked about how different flowers were meant for different occasions and to mix them up was considered rude in many cultures. Jongup remembers this and thought that there was no more appropriate color then that creamy shade of white. You see, he remembers the little things.
He got on the cab and stopped in front of a large structure that was majestic like the sun. He always liked accompanying junhong to the church. He wasn't much of a religious guy himself, but he liked watching junhong pray. Junhong didn't usually ask for much, he already had everything he could ever want, vested in the brown haired boy beside him. "What did you pray for this time?" jongup would ask, shifting rather awkwardly in the pews. "For you... For us... So we could be like this forever... I thanked god for you..." junhong would reply, lacing his hand into jongup's. Jongup would nod and grip the hand that felt snug against his own. He was thoroughly convinced that they'd be like this forever. Confident that those memories, those little things he remembered of junhong would play out everyday like a classic movie that he'll never get sick of; always charming, always welcoming, always harboring the same bittersweetness. He was so convinced that he would always wake up to see junhong asleep on the toilet cover while brushing his teeth, that he would chuckle at junhong when he danced across the kitchen while cooking. That he would be there to watch junhong's eyes light up whenever he remembers the little things.
He was early, so he sat the back of the church, in that familiar spot that junhong would sit at. He could almost smell the traces of pine mingling with the particles in the air. That faint scent that he remembers to be junhong's favorite soap. But he would refuse to believe that the smell was but a memory in his mind, that it was just one of the little things he remembers. At this point he clasped his hands together and bowed his head, brown mop of hair touching the pew in front of him. He didn't pray, no. Just hoped that god would understand what was going on in his mind, to pat him on the back and say "Jonguppie, these feelings will pass." But these feelings weren't going to pass, the little things weren't going to fade out of his busied mind. Jongup can't help but remember.
It's time, jonguppie hyung.
Jongup walked out the church headed towards the grass. Carpet grass interrupted by grey slabs. He had been here with junhong before. He remembers. Junhong had a strange attraction to the cemetery. It's quiet here. Peaceful. He'd say. And jongup couldn't help but to agree. The place didn't smell of death, no. It just smelt normal, still, peaceful. They'd sit at the bench under the tree or the one next to that wide path and talk. Being in a cemetery never bothered either of them. Junhong was brave like that. He wasn't afraid of ghosts or poltergeists or whatever. He didn't believe in them. Junhong was afraid of butterflies though. It was irrational, but junhong hated them. He didn't know why he had to be scared of them out of all things. It was so unmanly. Little flurry of wings, glass eyes. Why? Jongup once asked. B-because they'll... Lay eggs in my brain... Every time jongup thought about it he'd chuckle to himself. But butterflies were serious business when it came to junhong. That's why jongup remembers to hold him a little closer and a little tighter whenever he sees one approaching. He would hold junhong's head near his chest and make sure the butterflies don't stand a chance with his brain. He protected junhong from the egg-laying menaces. Jongup was junhong's hero. It was ironic though, because jongup was the one who put butterflies in junhong's stomach. But those butterflies were okay. Junhong didn't mind those. Because they had jongup's name painted carefully on their wings. Painted with jongup's sincerity, the touch of his rough hands, his smile that radiated sunbeams, the syrup-lined words escaping his lips and the little things he remembered. Junhong would make an exception for the butterflies that resided in his belly. Those butterflies were strangely enticing, just like jongup was. And they definitely wouldn't lay eggs in his brain.
The chairs were arranged in neat rows around a neatly cut dip in the soil. Jongup took his seat at the back row, fingers finding their way to the soft petals of the white rose. He was careful with it, just as careful as he was with junhong.
People were taking turns to speak. They were talking about junhong. How he was a good kid, a talented kid. Jongup's lips curved into a sad smile as those words passed his ears. None describing perfectly the warmth of junhong's hands, how his fingers curved beautifully between jongup's, or the sparkle in his eyes when he smiled. None could cover junhong's personality. He was electric, like cold sherbet on a summer's day. Like a warm nuance on winter's palette. Like a glimmer in pitch darkness. No one would talk about how cute junhong looked when he chewed his pen. Or how he would tie double knots in his laces still, because he hated having to retie them. No one would notice how his face lit up when his favorite advertisement jingle came on. Or how he'd recount all that happened in the day before he slept.
But jongup knew. Jongup knew all too well. He was junhong's hero after all. The hero who remembered the little things. The little things that the world chose to overlook. The little things that junhong himself doesn't realize. The little things that meant the world to junhong. Jongup traced his fingers gently over the jagged edges of the leaves on the stalk. He wondered if junhong remembered jongup saying that he was his hero. Because Junhong really was jongup's hero, not the other way around. That's what jongup thought. Because junhong saved him. Saved him from being like everyone else, saved him from the harsh grasp of reality and gave him something tangible to believe in. But junhong's mind was always busied with the bigger things. Like reminding jongup he had to take responsibility for the rent from now on. And how he should start writing down important dates on the calendar so he would remember the bigger things too. And how he had to promise to be happy. As happy as always.
The talking stopped and everyone rose from their seats. A line was formed and they passed the pit on the ground one by one. Jongup was the last. He knelt beside the hole, now filled with that black polished box.
"Junhonggie... I did it... I told you I could do it... I remembered..." jongup's lips curved into a smile. He could almost feel junhong ruffling his hair, praising him for the amazing feat. He felt something tugging at his heart, it hurt, more than anything he's ever hurt before. "Junhong... I love you..." jongup knew junhong was always occupied with the big things. So he hoped that his whisper was loud enough to be considered to be something big. Because junhong would always remember the big things. Jongup dropped the rose on the coffin and turned to walk away. His goodbyes to junhong were always hurried, and this was no exception. That's because junhong hated goodbyes. He hated seeing jongup drop that smile on his face for an expression that spoke of his longing. Junhong wanted to remember jongup by his smile. And he absolutely hated people crying. Because then he wouldn't know what to do with the situation. Jongup remembers. So he left junhong with one last smile. A bright one. One that would unstitch the seams of the clouds that hung low above him. One that would weave its way past the famed silver lining, so junhong could see it. And when he does see it, he'll smile back from heaven, a toothy grin that would warm the earth, a chuckle as beautiful as the wind rustling by jongup's ear.
Jongup would remember that laugh for as long as time itself. He would remember the violent flurry in his stomach even after the butterflies in Junhong's stomach had faded to moths.
Because Jongup remembers the little things.