[Jinki / Jonghyun] The Writing on His Face
Rating: R
Warning: none
Genre: prosopagnosia au
Length: 9320
Long arms rose above the patrons and waved in wide arcs. Only Minho would, Jonghyun smirked to himself.
He walked among the tables and when he reached the other, he mumbled a low greeting. Usually they would come in here at lunch, after a few matches of badminton at the university sports ground. It was a Saturday afternoon tradition between them. But this morning, he woke up to a message telling him to come straight to breakfast.
He sat down with a sigh and picked up a menu. Almost immediately, fingers rapped on the other side of the laminated page.
“I already ordered for us. The usual, right?”
“What’s the usual?”
Minho sighed. “Yah… is your memory failing you now, too?”
“What if I wanted to try something new for once? Eh?”
“Ah, then show up early next week!”
Jonghyun would’ve continued their farcical argument had he not given into the other’s ridiculous expression - eyes wide, brows raised, lips pouting angrily. It always managed to make him laugh. “This joker…” he chuckled.
Minho’s own countenance melted into a sheepish smile. “Anyway, what do you want to do today? The courts are closed for a month.”
“Maintenance again?”
The other shrugged. “Could be. News is, they had a burst pipe from the storm last week. Flooded the street downstream. All the old people in the big houses near the campus were complaining about it.”
“See?” Jonghyun pointed. “This wouldn’t have happened if they’d taken our advice earlier this year. I told them they should take advantage of the annual upgrade and change the clay pipes in for PVCs. I told them!” he insisted, then waved his arms. “But no~ it’s too excessive~”
Minho giggled, flicking some complimentary peanuts into his mouth. “Still doesn’t change my question-what are we going to do? It’s even nice outside for a change…”
“You could go see the flowers at Everland this year,” a voice suggested to them from a distance. “I hear they’ve come in really pretty.”
“Hyung!” Minho looked excited enough to clap. “You’re back!”
“I’m back,” a man with a pot of coffee and a striped apron casually walked up to their table, smiling at Minho with affection. “And man, is it good to see you two after all the weird people who’ve come in here this week. College students, ah...” He poured the steaming drink into their cups and placed a couple of paper napkins next to each one. “But? I see you two boys are stuck indoors again-look at the weather! What are you doing here?”
“Uh, hyung, you’re not supposed to drive business away?” Minho joked and they both chuckled with each other.
The man turned. “Jong ah,” he nodded amicably. It was the expression most people used with him, no matter how close they may be. Unsure, faltering, tentative. It was natural for them to be that way - after all, they were never sure if he’d recognize them. Several times, they would have to explain their identity and show him photos of themselves with him. It tended to get embarrassing for all parties involved. “How have you been? Everything good at home?” the man tried to smooth over some of his hesitance.
Jonghyun concentrated on the pronunciations. He concentrated on the texture of the speech. Silk, his brain conjured the word. Every time he identified someone correctly, he flooded with a deep warmth; a self-confidence rivaling nothing else. This time too, a radiance grew in the center of his chest, piercing its way out of his rib-cage like it was trying to give away all his secrets. “Jinki hyung,” he greeted, much to the man’s surprise. “It’s nice to see you again, this one was starting to miss you,” he jerked his chin in his friend’s direction.
“Hul…” the server gasped.
“I told you he was getting better at the voice thing!” Minho said in an oddly boastful tone, then realized he’d just admitted to talking about his best friend behind his back.
“You were right,” Jinki grinned.
“How was your trip?” Jonghyun inquired.
“It was good. I got to talk to a lot of universities. They offer a lot of options these days, unlike when I got out of school so… I’m hopeful about it. Yeah,” he ended the statement with some indecision.
“That’s good. I’m glad you got to go.”
They exchanged a friendly smile, and then Jinki jumped like he’d just remembered something. “Oh right! Are we still going to that exhibition this weekend?” he asked.
“The built history one?” Jonghyun felt excited just discussing the meeting. He’d seen the post on his SNS and immediately thought of Jinki, the aspiring architect who sketched in a dog-eared little notebook in his free time. Jinki, who was trying with all his might to get a degree so he could register as a professional and find better work. When Jonghyun forwarded the post to his friends in the industry, he knew it would make its way to its target. “Yeah, of course!”
“I’m… not invited?” Minho inquired with a frown, then his expression lightened before turning impish. “Are you two going on a daaaate?” he teased, then waved his arms and made silly wooo~ sounds.
Jonghyun threw a napkin at the guy’s face. “Be quiet. It’s an educational visit.”
“I can be educational!” the other garbled. “I do… I do education!”
“Shh!”
“Haha, well that’s great,” Jinki chuckled. “So, I’ll see you here tomorrow, after my shift? We can take the subway there. Cool?”
“Cool,” Jonghyun agreed.
Minho rested his face in his hands and leaned his elbows on the table, looking dreamy. “Ahh… a date. How cute~”
“Yah, what're you saying?!” he was given a not-so-serious scolding.
Jonghyun woke up with a start.
He staggered out of the blankets to look for his wallet. “Where is it…. where is it…” he mumbled under frustrated breaths. His heart pounded with fright as he combed through a pile of laundry. When he finally found it, he flicked the wallet open to look for the photo he had put in it many years ago. It was a picture of him in his high school graduation robes, two well-dressed women standing on either side of him, looking on with adoration. Hands shaking, he took the photo out of its clear pocket and held it up in front of his bleary eyes. He blinked hard, once twice thrice. He meant to blink away the sleep. Instead, tears flooded off his lashes and rolled onto his face, fell on his arms, dripped to his shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut while his lungs sobbed, but he tried again. It was expected, it was what happened every time he looked at the picture-at any picture. It was expected and he knew what would happen when he did it. But it still hurt. A twist of pain spread from his heart to his torso to the rest of his body.
He dropped everything and went to his phone. With trembling fingers, he dialed the number and waited for the ringing to stop.
“Jong ah,” the elderly woman greeted in a groggy voice. “What’s wrong? It’s so early in the morning.”
“Ma…” he rasped in the silence of his room. “Ma.”
“Baby, what’s happened? Are you hurt?”
“Eomma, I don’t remember your face.”
“You look… unwell,” Jinki stated as politely as it seemed he could.
“I’m fine,” Jonghyun tried to brush the attention away. “Just had a rough morning.”
“Is that what the sunglasses are for?” a hint of playfulness sprayed from the other. “Or are they your way of blocking out the unnecessary overload of faces?”
“Both,” Jonghyun joked in return.
They strolled through the park for a few meters until the other spoke up again. “Listen, we… really don’t have to do this today.” He looked concerned. “We can come back another time. I mean, I’d rather you go home and get some rest.”
“It’s the last day of the exhibition, hyung.”
Jinki scoffed. “An exhibition isn’t as important as your health, man,” he muttered.
Worry like this was common, regardless of who he met. It secretly irritated him, but he’d honed the skills to avoid a confrontation whenever it happened. “I tell you what,” he started to lighten the mood. “Why don’t you buy me an ice-cream when we’re done. That way you can pay me back for being here and being miserable.”
The other looked on, uncertain at first, then picked up his usual joviality. “OK!”
They walked some more until they arrived at the artificial hanok village. Houses on low wooden plinths circled a paved courtyard. The organizers had placed a row of old-fashioned shoes outside each house. Colourful paper art hung from lines overhead. Clay tiles gleamed and slate shimmered. Red square-spirals adorned the walls at mid-height. The smell of seaweed soup and pork dumplings was in the air. Tables had been set out for anyone interested in a game or two of baduk. In the distance, two women in traditional clothes played the zither and the flute, while a bunch of young boys in hanboks competed in hacky sack.
It was as if they had been transported to another time.
“Just like a sageuk drama,” Jinki sounded a little breathless, running his hands over pillars and walls. The tips of his fingers were stubby, and sometimes came away with plaster or paint. But he still touched everything he could, still tried to feel every surface within his reach. “It’s like a… a dream!” he turned around, eyes sparkling with excitement. Jonghyun grinned at him.
They explored their way through the fair, picked a few things to eat and a few others to drink. At one point, they stopped to watch a dance and drumming performance. They clapped in time with the beat and shared a look before laughing at the MC's jokes.
When it came time to leave, Jonghyun requested they take a selca. Jinki consented and proceeded to make silly faces at the camera. Later on, out of the other's sight, Jonghyun chose one of the photos as his lock screen, happily running a thumb over it.
"How about that ice cream?" one called as he walked ahead. The other nodded.
They strolled as they left the exhibition grounds, taking in the sights of the riverside. Streamers and lanterns hung between light poles, announcing the event. Some more girls walked past in full traditional clothes, giggling about something.
“… and I thought they were very clever in the way they negotiated with the locals, tried to get their input to feed back to the planners, cause it’s so important to understand the user grou-you’re not listening,” Jonghyun stopped talking when he saw the other simply watching him.
“No I am!” Jinki assured cheerily as he veered to one side of the walkway. He propped himself against the railing. “I like listening to you talk. You’re very passionate about your job.”
He pursed his lips. “I guess… it pays really well, and I get to work by myself, away from people. So that’s nice.”
“Hmm… you get your own space to think.”
“Exactly.”
The other’s smile was a hint rueful. “How nice.”
“Hey. Hyung,” Jonghyun closed the distance between them. “You’ll get there too, soon,” he encouraged. “I mean... you’re saving up for the education you want, you’re talking to universities so you can make the best choice. You’re clearly driven.”
“I’m also really old,” Jinki sighed. “My mother says I’m being too unrealistic with all this and sometimes... sometimes I think she might be right. You know?" he shook his head. "A degree in architecture is difficult. And after I’ve done all that, I don’t even know if I’ll ever get a job. In this economy?” He scoffed, scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Ah… I’m thirty and I still haven’t done anything with my life... I’ve wasted so much time.”
“You were in the army, it’s not a waste of time.”
The other offered a grateful smile, but his eyes were suddenly tired. Jonghyun leaned against the railing next to Jinki and said no more. They shared that little island of silence, watching the fair and the mountains in the distance. The sun grazed against their necks and shoulders, hugged their arms as they stood motionless, listening to the sounds of chirping birds. Because of the way Jonghyun’s visual memory worked, he needed constant speech to prompt his brain with information-I’m with this person, we know each other though such and such place, we’re here today on such and such errand. He liked when he could use people’s voices to give them a name because it made him feel safe, feel like he belonged where he was just then. But Jinki’s soft exhales allowed him to be alone for a short while, and he used that time on his own breath.
The spell was broken by a, “Oh, right, I heard you moved to a new apartment?”
“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Some weeks ago, now.”
“And you haven’t had a housewarming party yet, have you?”
Jonghyun tilted his head at the other, stating the obvious. “Minho?”
Jinki laughed. “Who else but the one and only?”
He shook his head. “That boy and his big mouth… No, I haven’t had a party yet,” he admitted. “I… honestly, I don’t like parties. They’re really. Disorienting.”
“Hmm,” the other hummed sympathetically.
“Plus, I have way too many people I’ll need to invite, and it’s going to be stupidly difficult to call them all up, confirm with each one, then order all their favorite stuff. Clean up the mess when they’re gone. It’s… ah, it’ll be a hassle.”
“You…” Jinki nodded with admiration. “Sound like you have a lot of friends. I’m actually jealous.”
“Yeah well,” Jonghyun started with some bitterness. “Still doesn’t stop me being lonely.”
The other chuckled. “How can you be lonely? This world is so insanely full of people, it’d be impossible.”
“See, that’s what I hate?” he pointed out, frowning and gesturing with his hands. “That in my life, lonely and alone have never met. They’re miles apart.”
Jinki studied him at that, eyes narrowed, lip worried. His hair fluttered in a zephyr and one of his cheeks shone gold against the setting sun. There was a sadness in that stare. It reached out with its arms as if waiting for someone to come pick it up, to come take it away because it didn't belong there. The sadness seemed to weigh enough that its owner's vision sagged to the ground, tired of holding itself up to face the rest of the world. If Jonghyun could, he'd have reached out and wiped it clean off the man's face. But he couldn't.
“Yeah,” Jinki said lowly, nearly whispering. His gaze moved to the ground, to his own shoes. “I know what you mean.”
“What’s up?” Minho answered the phone immediately.
“OK, let’s do it.”
“You mean let’s start a band? Yesssss!”
“Ye-what?” Jonghyun barked into his phone. “No! I’m talking about the thing you’ve been bugging me to do for weeks.”
“Yeah! Start a band!” Minho reiterated.
“Idiot, I mean a house-warming party.”
There was silence for a few seconds. “Ohhhhh… so I take it the date went well huh?”
“It wasn’t a date, we aren't dating, I was only accompanying him to the fair,” he patiently listed, but bit his lip because he couldn’t really lie. Not to Minho. “And yeah, he did bring up my move and all that but-”
“A-ha!”
“What’s a-ha?” Jonghyun panicked.
“A-ha is you finally deciding to throw a party so you can get Jinki hyung to visit your hooome~ oooh~”
“Yah, yah, yah…!” he warned over Minho's stupid noises. “It’s nothing like that, don’t go around spreading rumors OK?”
“You’re in loooove~”
“Hang up, right now!” he yelled.
He nearly didn’t hear the doorbell over the din. As he balanced a bowl of chips and dip in one hand, used his hip to push a trolley of glasses, and tried to twist the door knob with the other, someone walked past him giving instructions to bring out the drinks. He frowned after them but couldn’t pinpoint with any certainty who it was. When he gave up, the newcomer at his threshold waved.
Jonghyun frowned. The guest had short hair, a hooked nose, wore a loose sleeveless shirt and jeans, and carried a small bouquet of red roses. Nothing in their appearance could give away what or who they were. “He-hello…” he tried.
The other person tried to ease off the awkwardness. “Uh, thanks for inviting me,” he said with an appreciative nod. "Sorry I'm late, I wanted to pick these up for you--"
“Oh! It’s you, hyung,” Jonghyun sighed with relief. “Come, come on in!” he waved.
“Wow!” Jinki immediately let out. “This place is…”
“Big?” Jonghyun raised his eyebrows in suggestion.
“Huge!” the other’s eyes were wide. “So… so Miesian too, like all the glass is really. Fresh and modern and-”
“Tell me what you think later, here take this off me and feed yourself,” he offered the bowl and started walking back to the kitchen. “I’ll be right back, just try to find Minho, he’ll show you around.”
When Jonghyun wheeled the trolley to the kitchen, a woman was standing there, leaning against the island. He offered her a bottle of beer. “Can I help you?” he asked her.
“Yah, you know I only drink beer when there's fried chicken,” the woman responded, then suddenly perked up at an idea. "Did you order any fried chicken?"
“Noona,” Jonghyun whined with a sudden rush of tiredness, walking over for a hug. “This is so difficult,” he muttered into her shoulder.
Sodam patted the back of his head. “You’re doing fine. And I’m right here. Just call out, if you need me, OK?”
He hummed reluctantly before he was sent back into the crowd. Jonghyun trudged to the living room, a case of beers in one hand. A circle of guests waved to him with congratulatory words, and although he recognized no one, he did his best to behave amicably. As soon as he could excuse himself, he set the bottles safely onto a table. On cue, someone climbed onto his back with a loud proclamation of “Jonggie hyung!”
With the affectionate term, and the bounce in the other’s voice, the connection to face and name was instant. “Oh! Taeminnie!”
The boy got off and hugged him tightly. “Ahhhh, have I missed you," Jpnghyun was swayed to and fro. "We don't even meet like we used to every morning, now that you've moved. You're so far away… I had to take two trains to get here.” Taemin pouted cutely.
“You’re here now,” Jonghyun said with love, grasping the other's shoulders. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“This party’s great! Everyone’s here!” Taemin skipped a little in place. “I even ran into Jongin and Hyoyeon noona in the balcony. I haven’t seen any of you in so long, ah~! Remember when we used to go on a drive in the hills?”
Jonghyun nodded happily. “And how is Naeun doing?” he inquired.
“What, she hasn’t filed for divorce yet?” Minho’s warm voice slid into the conversation. “I’m shocked, considering what a headache you can be on your best da-ack!” Taemin tackled him playfully and Jonghyun decided to leave the two of them alone to their stupid wrestling.
“Just don’t break anything!” he called out after them with a grin. More unknown faces and more good wishes ambushed him. And they would've continued to do so for the good part of the evening, had he not bowed out of conversations before they turned unpleasant for him.
At a moment of leisure, Jonghyun's eyes looked through the crowd for any sign of red roses. When he found it, he started to swim through the throng to get to it. All along the way there, people commended him on the new apartment and gave him all sorts of compliments. He thanked them as best as he could without seeming too rude. With Jinki’s familiar back within earshot, he called out.
“Hyung, I-”
“Oh, there you are,” the other turned around with a wide smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me." Jonghyun wondered if he'd ever been privy to it before, because there was nothing but sunshine in that smile. It glowed like gold and warmed his cheeks as if summer had landed on his face, resting against his skin after a long flight. He wondered if Jinki had ever shown him an expression like that before, and wondered if it would've made Jonghyun's cold nights more bearable had he been able to remember such a smile. He almost blushed, almost shied a little but the other pulled him over by his arm.
“We were just talking about you,” Jinki held the roses out for his host to take, and motioned a third man standing next to him; a scar on his eyebrow and a piercing in his lip. The newcomer looked from one to the other and gave a soft smile.
“Hi.”
Jonghyun squinted. “Hello, I’m so glad you could come,” he attempted, in a manoeuvre to identify who the other person was.
“It’s me,” the man said, as if it should’ve been obvious who he was by now. “Kim Kibum?”
“Oh,” Jonghyun’s nervousness cooled down. He shot the other a sheepish purse of the lips. “Hey. I meant it, Bummie. I’m glad you’re here.”
Kibum’s momentary coldness disappeared. “How have you been, Jjong?”
“Good,” he nodded. “Very good. So…” he took a deep breath. “I see you two have already met.”
“He’s been singing your praises for a while now,” Jinki assured. “And giving me some very interesting dirt on you in the process,” he teased.
“Dirt?” Jonghyun shot a worried look at Kibum. “Wh-what dirt?”
The other stared at him in disbelief for a moment. “I’m joking!” he laughed.
“Don’t mind him,” Kibum said to Jinki. “He’s always like this. Always makes a mountain out of a molehill.”
“No, I don’t,” Jonghyun challenged, willing to argue over the fact.
“See?” and the other two giggled. “Anyway. This is a great house, Jjong. And a great party too,” Kibum placated. “I only wish there were some music, you know?”
“Yah, he’s already confused as it is, you want to add to the confusion?!” Minho appeared behind them on cue, carrying a tray heavy with refreshments for other guests. “Use your brain!”
“At least I have a brain to use!” Kibum retorted and Minho squealed with laughter, nearly spilling all his food. They all chuckled along.
“OK, you two have fun, I need to say hello to some more people,” Jonghyun bid them farewell, not wanting to to leave but also not wanting to stay. On his way, Minho took him aside and described a few visitors to him: told him their names and what they were wearing, just so he could avoid the discomfiture of meeting the same group of guests more than once. He nodded and tried to remember everything, tried to smile at everyone he passed, tried to give everyone his hellos and offer a drink to whoever asked about his health. He tried to enjoy himself, take pride in his new home and his old friends all gathering to celebrate it with him. He honestly tried.
Through it all, he made sure not to turn around and look back at the other two again. But when he was at the sliding door to the balcony, and the setting sun caught in his eyes, his gaze naturally strayed back to the place he’d last seen Kibum and Jinki. Kibum with Jinki. The sight made him feel bitter. One leaned on the other’s shoulder, guffawing. The other blushed and grinned, looked somewhat pleased with himself. Both seemed like they were in a world of their own, neither appeared to remember what brought them together.
And that’s when Jonghyun knew this party was long over.
But he didn’t give up.
The next chance he could find, he went out to their usual café on his lunch hour. He’d had to take a train and walk in the sun for fifteen minutes. By the time he’d arrived, his shirt was soaked in all the uncomfortable places. He loosened his tie and fanned himself with the menu. A few minutes later, a familiar frame walked over to him with a pot of coffee.
“Oh, hyung, how have you been? Sorry I meant to call after the party but there was so much to do an-”
“Ah… excuse me?” the server said in an odd, unfamiliar voice. A gravelly, discordant voice. “Do… we know each other?”
Jonghyun watched the man in growing shock. He blinked gawkily. “I-I’m sorry,” he bowed in his seat. “I thought you were someone else.”
"Ah, really?" the man said with clear skepticism. “Do they work here?”
“Y-yeah, I’m actually here to meet Jinki hyung?”
“Oh, no,” the server shook his head. “He doesn’t work the afternoon shift on Tuesdays. He’ll only be here after five. If you like, I could take a message to pass on to him,” the man offered, but not with any sincerity. The look on his face seemed to accuse Jonghyun of something. Something like insanity.
“No…” he declined, mortified and crestfallen. “That’s OK. Thank you.”
He didn’t return to work after the ordeal. He called in sick and went straight home, answering none of his co-worker's perturbed questions. He didn’t bother picking up his bag from the office, didn’t even bother picking up his dinner from the usual dumpling house near the apartment block. On the subway, his phone buzzed but he ignored it. In the lift, someone greeted him pleasantly, but he paid them no heed. As soon as he was indoors, he locked himself up, drew all the curtains, took a hot shower, put on his softest pyjamas, lit a candle on his bed side table, and went to sleep.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve given you my number so you could contact me before you came over,” Jinki spoke in hushed tones. Between them sat a basket of fruits and a card that read get well soon! in English. Obviously, Minho had put him up to this.
“No, it’s my fault,” Jonghyun shook his head. “I wasn’t sure what I was thinking, dropping in like that.”
The other tilted his head but said nothing, as if waiting for him to elaborate. But there was nothing much to add. Jonghyun had tried to reach for something that was far out of his grasp. When his fingertips had made contact with it, he’d tried to swing his arm like the motion would help him find some purchase. But just like the time he tried to show off at the pull-up bars in high school, his grip grew sweaty and he slipped. The fall was hard, and the humiliation amplified the pain.
Jonghyun had made a fool of himself.
“I… just came to ask how the party was,” he shook his head. “Yeah,” he let out a chagrin-filled laugh when he saw the confusion on the other’s face. “It was stupid. Coming all the way to the other side of town for something stupid like that.” But he still looked at Jinki expectantly.
The man shook his head. “It… it was good. I-we all had fun, yeah-” he assured in a jumble. “I could tell you were meeting a lot of those people after a very long time, so they were happy to be here.”
“Yeah… that’s true.”
“Jong ah, what is…” the other slid off his stool. “What is this actually about?”
“Nothing,” Jonghyun chuckled it away, clapping his hands, rubbing them together in a habit from his disgraceful high school days. “But I’m happy you enjoyed yourself. And I could tell you liked meeting my friends, too," he nodded. "You’ve always been close to Minho, but you and Kibum seemed to really hit it off with each other that day,” he said in a tone that insinuated things he wasn’t willing to say.
“Jong,” Jinki nudged again, his tone constantly and unbearably calm. “What’s going on?”
He sighed, looking up at the ceiling like he’d find courage hidden there. His visitor walked around the kitchen island to close the distance between them, but Jonghyun took a step back, motioning for Jinki to stay where he was. “Don’t,” he requested. “Please.”
Jinki’s expression took on a hint of helplessness. “Jong ah-”
“I want something,” he was cut off. “From you,” Jonghyun emphasized to put his point forward, gulping. “I want you to give me something that is unreasonable to ask for, and that’s why I act like an idiot.” He let out an exhale that came with the reprieve of confession. “I want you to give me this thing, and I want you to give it to me unconditionally-no, hyung! Hyung,” he cautioned. “Don’t come any closer, let me finish.”
The other sighed heavily. Jonghyun’s own breath had sped up by a large measure.
“I can’t say, that... that I can give you anything in return for that something,” he shook his head. “I can’t say I can make you happy, because,” his eyes burned at the sound of his words. “Because I have never made anyone happy. Least of all, myself,” he let out a mirthless laugh. “I can’t say that I can give you everything I have, because I have nothing.”
Jinki carefully walked forward at that, regardless of all warnings. “What do you want?” he whispered when they were an arm’s length away. It was getting late in the day, and the kitchen was slowly being flooded by darkness. Deep shadows played on the man’s face. “Tell me what you want.”
“You couldn’t give it to me, even if you wanted to,” Jonghyun looked away. “I mean, Kibum tried and look what happened-”
“Why do you keep bringing him up?” the other scolded.
Jonghyun turned back to him with incredulity. “Do you really not get it?” he looked from one amber eye to the other and found no trace of cruelty in them. Jinki wasn’t playing games with him, he was genuinely clueless.
“Hyung, Kibum and I were together for a long time.”
“I gathered.”
“Then do you know why we went our separate ways?” Jonghyun straightened up to his full height. “Do you know what fucked us up?”
“No, and I don’t really care-”
“It was me,” Jonghyun told him anyway, anger finding its way to the edges of his words. “I constantly mistook other men for Kibum and it ruined our relationship and… and once I kissed someone else. And I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Jinki said nothing.
“Do you understand what that means?”
“… Jong ah,”
“It means that no matter how faithful I want to be to someone, no matter how much I love someone, no matter what I do to try and not fuck it up?” his voice broke against his tears. “I fail. I fail all the time. And everyone knows that,” he defined angrily. “Every single person who has ever met me, knows that. And I have to look at their faces when they realize it, over and over. I have to see them think it when they find out what I am, and that-” he sobbed. “And that is why I can’t ask you.”
Jinki pulled him into a hug then but was immediately rejected. “Hey,” he tried again, slower, softer. But when Jonghyun violently fought him off a second and third time, he gripped the man’s arms hard and trapped him against the kitchen counter. “Sto-stop it!” he yelled. Jonghyun sagged against him then, quaking like a child.
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Jinki agreed.
They’d ended up lying on the carpet of the living room, feet pointing in opposite directions and temples nearly touching each other. Jonghyun was calmer now, arms crossed over his chest as it moved with his breathing. But his nose still sniffled and a stray tear or two still dripped to his ears. He’d wipe each of them away, just so Jinki wouldn’t have to worry about it.
“I’ll be with you, Jong ah, but you need to make some changes in your life,” the man said.
He nodded wordlessly. He approved of that sentiment. “Yeah.”
“First, I want you to see a therapist-no, hear me out,” Jinki tamped out the protest Jonghyun started to make. “I want to help you, I really do. But I can’t help you with everything. Some of this stuff… Jong, some of the things you feel are really powerful, and they're eating you up from the inside. There is a way to deal with them, but I don't know it. You need professional advice to face those feelings. Do you think that’s reasonable?”
He didn’t want to admit defeat, because that’s what it felt like he was doing. Therapy was always seen as a last resort, a shameful alternative to being fine. Being whole and perfect and happy. He wanted to stop thinking of it with the narrow-mindedness of society. It was difficult. It was tough to accept. But he would certainly try, on Jinki’s insistence.
“OK.”
“Good,” the other turned his head, their faces close enough to lean in for a kiss. But Jinki didn’t attempt, and Jonghyun didn’t seek. “Second, I want you to remember that you are not alone,” he felt around for Jonghyun’s phone and saved himself as a contact. “Now you can reach me whenever you like. Even if you’re bored and want someone to talk to. Call me anytime, alright?”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I want you to just remember that I’m here for you.”
Jonghyun turned too, this time. Their eyes met and stayed met for a long series of moments. “Thank you,” he whispered again, between them.
With several months behind them, their lives-and schedules-plateaued into each other.
Saturday morning was still dedicated to badminton and lunch at the café. Jinki still served them but lingered to chat with Jonghyun, sometimes playing with his hand, other times giving him a complimentary slice of cheesecake. Minho would whine things like unfair and I want to date someone too, and they’d giggle about it later.
After a lot of scheduling, cancelling, and rescheduling, Jonghyun settled for therapy sessions every Monday straight after work. He stuck to the routine no matter how shameful it felt to admit the fact to his family and close friends.
Wednesday nights, they would meet at the apartment where one watched TV and another worked on his portfolio for university applications. Sometimes, when the weather was pleasant, they went for walks along Cheonggyecheon. Sometimes, they invited Taemin and Naeun out on double dates. Sometimes, they just sat on the floor and played board games.
Most of the time, Jinki was close and listening attentively.
Jonghyun was happier. He could honestly say that, with no embellishment and no stretching of the truth. He felt lighter than he had in months. His mind was clearer, and he was able to make more of an effort at recognizing faces - putting names against voices, hair, mannerisms. His self-confidence would rocket every time he guessed correctly, and the few mistakes he made never weighed him down. He’d actively made an attempt to forgive himself, to move on from his slip-ups and not carry them around with himself. He was happier.
But he didn’t want to stop here. He wanted to keep moving forward. He wanted to keep climbing. And he decided to bring it up at dinner one Wednesday.
“So, the voice thing,” Jinki said as he polished all the food off his plate. “Tell me how it works. I’m curious,” he questioned while munching through a mouthful of side-dishes.
“It’s easy,” Jonghyun shrugged, hissing at something spicy. “I just connect peoples voices with images that remind me of them. For example, Taemin,” he explained. “We lived in the same neighborhood as children, and he used to own this... huge colorful beach ball,” he motioned with his hands. “Everyone wanted to be friends with him because everyone loved that ball. So, when I hear a voice, and it sounds lively and fun, I’m immediately reminded of that ridiculous beach ball. And that’s how I know it’s Taemin.”
Jinki smiled, nodding his comprehension as he settled back into his chair. “What about the others?”
“Minho sounds lazy. Warm and lazy, like wool and hot chocolate.”
“Well, he does like his scarves.”
They shared a laugh at that. “Yeah, he does.”
"I'm sure his wardrobe is filled with them and nothing else."
“Kibum is like… well, his breath always smelled of cigarettes when we were dating, and he used to wear a lot of silver rings. So I know when I hear something cutting or sharp, it’s him.”
“You do him so much justice,” Jinki chortled.
“Hey, you only met him for a couple of hours. Get to know him a little, and you’ll see what I mean.”
“Heh,” the other was amused. “What about me, then?” he asked, leaning forward on an elbow, looking sleepy and tired after all the time he’d put into his applications that night. “What do I remind you of?”
“I…” Jonghyun blushed. “I don’t want to say, because you might think I’m silly.”
“This is reverse psychology. Now I want to know!”
They giggled. “You’re like…” he pursed his lips. “You’re like a silk worm.”
“Wow, harsh.”
“No, no, hear me out:” Jonghyun rushed to clarify, chuckling and holding the other's wrist. “You know how silkworms work really really hard so they can produce little pieces of string? String that we then collect and make into something beautiful? Yeah… you’re like that. You work hard on whatever you do. And it ultimately gives people happiness.”
Jinki watched him with an adoring smile. “You really know how to impress me, don’t you?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Jonghyun said, trying to act charming but immediately breaking into a fit of laughter at himself. The other watched him for a while, matching his mirth. And suddenly the urge to lean across the island for a kiss intensified. But in the six months they’d been together, they hadn’t tried to get too attached. There was a mutual unspoken pact that they didn’t want to rush into anything. Things needed to move slowly, not on impulse. And although Jonghyun’s last relationship had been long and deeply intimate, this contrast in pace was pleasant. Beyond holding hands, he decided to respect the distance as best as he could.
“Hyung,” he said in place of it.
“Hmm.”
“Let’s go on a trip together.”
“Sure, where?”
“I…” Jonghyun hesitated, trying hard not to sound too forward. “I really want to go to a nice resort somewhere. Maybe Fiji?”
“Ah…” Jinki looked unnerved. “Jong ah, hyung doesn’t have that kind of money…”
“It’ll be a gift,” the offer gushed out. “From me to you. I-I mean-” he faltered. “You’re going to start university next year, and we may not see each other as often anymore. This could be a... going away present?”
Jinki licked his lips, seeming a little worried. “Jong, the university is right here. In Seoul.”
“Yeah, I know but-”
“And it’s a generous offer, really, it is. Thank you, I’m… I’m flattered that you would want to go away on an island vacation with me. Really, thank you.”
Jonghyun blinked. “But?”
“But..." Jinki blinked. "I need to think about it. It’s a lot to consider, I hope you understand?”
“Hmm…”
“It doesn’t mean I don’t want to go with you. Trust me, if I could drop everything right now and leave, I would.”
“I’m sorry. I… seem to have burdened you with something unnecessary again,” Jonghyun said sheepishly.
But Jinki didn’t reply. He shook his head with a muttered this person, walked around the table and embraced the other’s forehead to his stomach.
Jinki did say yes in the end, acquiescing on the condition that he be loaned his half of the expenses. Jonghyun had wasted no time in booking flights and accommodation, then.
To be quite honest, he had wasted some time jumping around the apartment like an excited child. He'd skipped through the kitchen, slid down the railing of the stairs, done a little jig in the living room-tripped and nearly hurt himself on the corner of the centre table, too. But the holiday was to happen, that much was certain, and now he felt like he was filled with air: light, warm, soothed like the sighs of an admirer.
He kept the expenses low, out of consideration for the other. But he also didn't stinge on where they stayed, and how long they stayed for. On their first day in Fiji, a private ferry picked them up at the port and an hour later dropped them off outside a quiet little cottage, concealed on all sides by large bursts of vegetation. Jinki looked undeniably amazed when he stepped out onto the sand, and Jonghyun simply ran up to what would be their home for the next two weeks, flailing his arms and rolling on tufts of dry grass - willing to appear childish now that no eyes could see him.
They spent their mornings gorging on the breakfast buffet, spent their afternoons snorkeling or kayaking in the ocean. And at night, when the crickets were singing outside, Jinki would bring out his laptop so they could watch a movie under shared blankets.
On his part, Jinki never left Jonghyun by himself for longer than necessary. He would have friendly conversations with the people they met on the trip, and he would make additional bookings or requests on their behalf. Jonghyun didn't mind being a passenger in those situations. There was no loss of autonomy in it, he realized. It was the other's way of protecting him. And he was grateful. He felt an odd sense of safety.
On the last evening of their trip, they sat down by the shore. Waves lapped on the sand and turned to froth against their toes. Jonghyun hugged his knees and Jinki brought out a pair of beer cans, their fourth… or no. Maybe their fifth of the night. In the distance, the last ferry ride of the day drifted out to the mainland, only visible by the lights on its front and the din of its engine.
“I could live in a place like this.” It didn’t matter who breathed those words out into the cool air. They both felt it: in different ways, in varying degrees. Where one envied the isolation of an island, the other loved the way silence reigned over it. One enjoyed the feeling of sand against his naked heels, the other missed the sun baking his bare shoulders. One could float on the undulating ocean forever, another could fall sleep in the shade of mango trees. Jonghyun could’ve stayed and if Jinki had the courage to, he would’ve also forgone leaving here. But the renouncement of something would never come without the sacrifice of something else. They knew this, and they spoke it to each other. Silently. Between sips of cold beer and grips around condensation.
“Thank you,” Jinki suddenly hushed. “For bringing me here. For showing me things I would’ve probably never seen.”
Jonghyun shook his head. “If you’d never said yes, I wouldn’t be here, either. So I should be thanking you,” he turned and smiled, leaning his chin on his arm. When the other returned the smile, he dipped his face shyly, hiding it behind the inside of his elbow. And the thought that he may be drunk occurred to him. The buzz in his cheeks flushed down his neck and into his chest. His skin fizzed with excitement, his lungs coursed with anticipation
“Let’s go for a swim,” he said. The disbelieving pause between him slipping off his shirt and Jinki’s startled eh?! was long, and a little funny. Jonghyun chuckled, dizzy with the emotion, high off of more than alcohol. “Come, hyung,” he beckoned, tilting his head to the water.
“You know there’s going to be all sorts of stuff in the water now, right?”
“That’s OK,” Jonghyun had been really worried about stepping on fish when they went snorkeling in the daytime. He'd even yelled out when he accidentally squished a sea cucumber. But now. No fear resided in his gut anymore, just a heavy pulse. To keep going. To keep stripping.
If Jinki felt any shame from seeing his host unclothed, he didn’t show it. He followed Jonghyun’s face with his sight, first with confusion and then with curiosity. “Wait…” he tried when the other began to walk in. “Wait, you’re drunk.” But he threw off his clothes as well, following close behind.
The water was cold, the tide gentle. The moon shone over them, its light folding them in blankets. Jonghyun stared up at it as he walked then swam. He turned to connect his eyes with Jinki once: not to check if he was still there, just to assure him that he wanted this. Wanted to be followed. Wanted to be chased. Wanted to be caught. Jinki's gaze seemed to understand.
They swam for a while, first in a line and then at a point. One stopped and the other continued, cutting the water in a diminishing spiral. One looked and the other looked back. One thought he was drowning and the other knew they were soaring.
They waded deep enough that their feet stopped touching the sand. Jinki’s circling stopped, too. He swum to a halt in front of a sobbing Jonghyun. It was only them riding those waves, then. Only Jinki, only Jonghyun, and only the moonlight wavering between them on the water.
“Why are you sad?” Jinki asked. His voice was tender, the words seeming to cradle Jonghyun in their arms.
“Because,” he said, laughing and weeping all at the same time. “Because I can see you. Clearly. And I know you. I know in my gut, to give you a name. To give you your identity. I…” Jonghyun shook his head, bringing his hand out the water to wipe his face and drenching it further. “I know exactly who you are. Right now. In this moment. And--" he cried. "And I'm sad because this moment won’t stay. It will go away it will never come back and I don’t want that, I don’t want to leave this time I just-”
“Then let’s stop time,” Jinki said before he swallowed Jonghyun into a gasping kiss and the water swallowed their bodies whole.
It had been written on the sand of Jinki’s island. It had been scrawled on the beach, scratched on the rocks that fell towards Jonghyun’s sea.
It had been written that they would meet like this, when one eroded and the other abated.
It had been written a long time ago that they would meet when Jonghyun washed to the shore, flung to land by the waves. Jinki had been waiting ready, with his arms open to catch him.
It had been written that their lives would be pulled together like sticks bound in rope. That they would float and drown together, as driftwood, every morning. And when dusk finally came they would swim. Home. To the place they built. Dug into the ground and poured in like cement that dries even when the monsoon comes. Even when showers flood and lighting crashes it was written they would be held. As one. As together. As Jinki and Jonghyun.
And when the sun set. When the moon danced into view it was written that they would spin. They would roll their memories together like dough between their hands, flatten them into the circle of time before throwing them up into the sky. At the stars. At the universe. Into Jonghyun’s sea where they dissolved and disappeared. Absorbed into his tongue where he could always reach them but never bring them to his lips. It was written that Jinki would step aside when Jonghyun fell back into the water. When he swum out with the determination of getting away from the island. From his survival. From Jinki. It was written he would be given way. Despite the fear of his never returning. Despite the fear that time would start turning again and twist in their chests with pain.
It was written that life would draw messages on the beach, reminding them of the second their chests pressed together and their breath danced in the middle of folding lips. Even as the waves washed everything away, over and over. The memory was drawn until life broke its stick. And left them to maneuver through their splashing night and their blushing morning.
A year passed.
It was time for Jinki to go to university. They’d moved in together some months prior. Jinki had fought the suggestion hard but when he noticed how expensive rent could get in the university area, he was defeated. Jonghyun had reasoned it would still give them time together, even with work and studies. "It’ll be good for us, hyung,” he’d insisted.
And it was the truth.
Every day Jinki slowly brought in more of his things and every night Jonghyun made more and more room for him in the previously bare apartment until it felt full. Full of things, full of memories, full of happiness. And with every addition Jonghyun felt fuller too. Even if Jinki complained his things were a little scruffy or a little tattered, he didn’t mind. He bought new sheets and new quilts. He bought a second pair of pillows. He bought a set of drawers for the other’s clothes. He bought more cutlery to share. He bought everything they would need to go from being more than one. More than just him.
Every morning Jonghyun spoke a soft, “hyung?” to confirm if it really was Jinki lying next to him. Some days the other joked and said something silly like, “No, it’s your conscience.” Some days a soft kiss would be answer enough. Some other, rare days, Jonghyun would cry and hide his face in his pillow, feeling frustrated that he couldn’t even identify the man he lived with. The man he loved and was obviously loved by in return. Jinki stayed by his side for a long time on those mornings, hushing and comforting him, never tiring of him, never complaining or walking away.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked one afternoon as they lazed on the sofa.
Jonghyun said nothing, snuggling up to the other. He wasn’t sure about it at all. He felt no certainty in letting another person into his space. The space he had guarded fervently up until Jinki had knocked on the door and held out a bunch of red roses. He wasn’t sure. But he would remain unsure until they tried. And that was all this was. Trying. To be happy, to be whole, to start again. That was all this was. He said nothing as Jinki put an arm around him and kissed the back of his head. He gave and gave and Jinki received and accepted until at some point in their cohabitation. On some mundane morning as he sat in the train to work, Jonghyun wondered if he was a little Jinki, now. If the man he shared his apartment with was in actuality, half-Jonghyun.
He thought about it all day, all through work, even all through the night when they met and hugged and kissed and ate dinner. He thought about it when the other held him close in bed, gripped him hard, pressed a pair of soft lips to his ear and showered him with compliments as he moved deep inside him. He thought about it in his breaking voice and his scratching fingers and his peaking moans-maybe he wasn’t himself. Maybe the other wasn’t himself, either. Maybe they became each other’s, on a dark and sandy beach in the middle of an ocean. Maybe they melded, became an alloy. A Jinki-Jonghyun that couldn’t be separated with ease. He wondered even after they came back down from their high, the sheets as sweaty as their foreheads, the bed as creaky as their thighs, the air as balmy as their breath.
“You’re sure about this?” Jinki asked again, several times. And Jonghyun never answered. But the response slowly blossomed in his chest as the days became months.
His life had less uncertainties in their time together. Even when work became hectic and university took up all the time they could’ve spent in each other’s arms. Even then, Jonghyun grew less unsure. Less negative. Less unstable on his feet when looking at faces and listening to voices. He knew that the clatter of plates in the kitchen was Jinki. Or the sound of music in the late afternoon was Jinki. The jangle of keys at the door was Jinki and even the hushed sigh behind him in bed was Jinki. Even if he didn’t always recognize the things he should’ve-the picture of his mother, the friends on his phone, the sound of his own heart. Even if all that fell to unfamiliarity, Jinki never did. Not his summery grins, not his happy clap, not his hot kisses or his rippling muscles.
A year passed.
But Minho continued his complaints. “How come no one will date me?” he stamped his feet as they finished their run in he park. “I’m cute! Hyung, am I not cute?” he demanded of Jinki.
“Adorable,” the other panted, bending over and supporting himself on his knees. “How is he not tired…?!” he said incredulously.
Jonghyun cringed and wiped his brow, but glared at the tall man, the stitch in his side making him unable to answer back.
A year passed.
But Taemin and his wife still met them, often. They would eat and go for walks and sometimes. Sometimes Jonghyun would listen to the sounds of the baby in Naeun’s belly, closing his eyes and giggling. Imagining who the child would take after, even if their faces never registered in his mind. And then he imagined what Jinki would look like holding it. Holding any child, cradling it and humming it to sleep. He would feel warm at the image of sturdy arms around a delicate bundle of blankets.
A year passed.
Sometimes the thought of Kibum would still interfere with his mind. Make him remember the things he was ashamed of, things that embarrassed him still. Things he wished he could forget as easily as the faces surrounding him, but was slapped by on his worst days. And he fought Jinki over it. Birthed arguments from stupid things like forgetting to switch off lights or leaving a dirty spoon on the counter. He yelled and screamed and cried his eyes out while Jinki waited quietly for him to finish. Then he sobbed against the man’s chest, being soothed and being led to bed, being comforted to sleep it all off.
A year passed.
And it wasn’t a perfect year. It wasn’t always happy. It wasn’t always a bed of roses. But it passed regardless. And while Jonghyun still couldn’t tell people apart, still had to listen closely in important meetings and critical situations. Even if that was still as it had always been, he was different. He was no longer just Jonghyun. He was more.