[11] I See Fire (Part 2/3)
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*
Who knew dead people could have sex? Yeah, me neither, I didn’t know. I didn’t talk to Crush for months and neither did he. Sometimes he’d disappear for weeks and I didn’t know if he’d come back, but somehow he always remembered to, when I least expected it. I could spend every waking minute, betting on when I’d hear his padded footsteps fill the room or when, most of the time, I’d hear nothing but silence or just me making useless noises on purpose like hitting pots and pans and utensils unnecessarily loudly so I wouldn’t have to suffer alone. During that time, I went to the hospital a few more times, mostly because I set the place up on fire twice trying to light up my eyes so I’d be able to see if I was pouring the coffee in the cup or onto my feet and another time, I “accidentally dropped” my swiss army knife on my stomach, which somehow mysteriously got twisted into my gut until I bled a pool while crawling all the way to the hospital. Without Crush’s help. Yup.
I felt proud of myself. That I was shitastic at fucking everything up? Yeah. Great ass job, Jay, I muttered to myself, while nearly knocking over a carton of milk in the fridge. I couldn’t find the condensed milk anywhere and the hot water and coffee ground were sitting on the counter, ready to be mixed, ready to be spilled, and ready to be drank, or what would be left of it, anyway. Crush’d make the best coffee. Oh, that and also some other food stuff that I never paid attention to, just as long as it was food on a plate and it tasted like home. He was good at it. And I had taken everything for granted. Fuck. Fuck because there wasn’t any condensed milk, which meant no coffee, despite my hard effort to heat up the water, and that would make my mood cranky.
“Like a baby, aren’t you?”
That voice. I spun around quickly, ramming straight into the fridge door, then stumbling myself out of the cold box with angelic grace and a suppressed smile trying not to look like a stupid idiot. Okay, so, I didn't have that angelic grace. At all. I back-pedaled out of the kitchen as I watched my mentor bend down and pick up my hurricaned mess of empty boxes, discarded pieces of tape and wrappers, and tossing them in the trash at the same time as he shut the fridge door close with the heel of his converse shoe and stared at the cup of hot water, obviously not hot anymore, and at the bag of coffee ground next to it. He stared at it blankly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, or maybe it was because he wasn’t sure what to do with my abstract antics and I wanted, so badly, to tell him that I struggled with that too. I didn’t really know what to do with myself either. Every day I lived in fear that it’d be my last, without torture, because I wasn’t so keen on meeting Hades anytime soon. And if that day was near, I would have liked Crush to be there. Though, since he kept disappearing without a trace, I wasn’t sure that would even be a possibility. I sighed, swallowed, and looked at him as he looked at the cup, standing idly, occasionally teetering an inch to the right or to the left depending on how the air decided to dance the push and pull. He looked so fragile. So ready to be carried by the wind like tumbleweed, alright with the damage and broken twigs and pulled-apart strings. I wondered if he had met Hades already. When was his scheduled torture? Or was his torture me?
Oh, man. Oh, fuck. I fell into a sinkhole and I wanted to climb back out. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry, that I wished I wasn’t his nightmare. But I wasn’t ever good at talking about sappy stuff and doing anything to show it wasn’t any better. He knew that. He must’ve. “Crush,” I whispered. If I didn’t try, then I’d kill myself. Oh, wait I’m already--
“Don’t ruin it,” he said coldly. --dead. I was already dead. Damn it.
“Aight.” I tried not to feel the hurt in that. “But Crush, I need--”
His unflinching gaze stopped me. Was this our first eye contact in a long time? Why did it have to be this god-awful glare? “I don’t wanna hear it.”
“-- you. I need you,” I continued anyway. But then I cringed because I didn’t want him to feel like he was a possession that I got to own--
“Shut up,” he murmured. His otherwise stillness was disrupted by something, of a force I couldn’t explain, like the sudden shift, floorboards creaking, my first words to him in so long-- his name was first out of my mouth, so there-- and suddenly he wasn’t the sullen but handsome statue he was a few minutes ago, now busying himself with the glass and pouring the water out into the sink and putting the coffee ground back into the cupboard behind him.
“Huh?” I took a step closer and raised a brow, biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t grin like a monkey. It was like he remembered he could move, and when he moved, he flowed like water or the notes belting and curving meteors against a nebulous sky like it would on a metronome. But then he looked up and was trying so hard to keep his face straight, which failed so horribly since mine probably looked like I had a bad case of constipation. “Can-- Can you say that again?” I asked. I bit my lip hard from letting loose a hyena’s cackle.
“Shut up, you mean?” Crush’s voice cracked. There was a minute of silence that hung between us like a silver line of saliva between flushed lovers’ swollen bruised god-fucking lips because we were closer than we’d been in weeks and months; proximity-wise, I mean. Then it broke, something had fallen over, the cup did, or a dresser did in the dark bedroom, all the compartments showered and thundered across the oak moonlit floor and all that clotting blood and black lace dripped and flung out like strips of ribbon, fluttering in the air before Picasso-ing away into the darkness, like the way poisoned bubbles foamed out and did away with time. That was shut out and something else rushed back in. Something snapped. The tension of trying to hold in a smile like trying to hold in pee. I exploded with laughter. I just couldn’t hold it in any longer and the wood and rain that I missed so much fell out of his lips too, like we were both high on helium, laughing at our own stupidity. Well, more of mine than his because he was flawed perfectly and I was a wild never-tamed tantrum without an opaque jar’s confines. But yeah, he was perfect. When he laughed, when he cried, when he was upset at me, when he pouted his lips or when he bit them softly or so harshly blood dribbled down his chin or did just about anything with them that made me wonder what his kisses were like; when he blushed and tried to hide it; when his eyes were a pair of stars kaleidoscoping in the light or when they were dark and brooding or when they pinned my soul onto a mattress with a milky way coming down on me like fucking raining stardust and tear speckles; when his hands held me up so close or pushed me down so far or the other way around; when he was just goddamn there and when he wasn’t, wasn't there to say shut up to me; when his beautiful lisp soaked those full lips and when its brokenness slipped out from choking a sob; when his patience for everything stood and held the world from under the falling sky and all its leaking stars tumbling, black holes tied in the knotted constellations, coursing a storm in the roaring waves ridden up against space fabric; when his profundity of all things complex that was me seeped through my frostbitten barriers and warmed me like sunlight on my naked body, sleeping on a beach blanket within the wind-swept bristle of dark twigs and sweetly salted leaves of the wild bushes just at the cliff that overlooked the bay of cerulean, layers of blue that cascaded over each other until it was foam white lapping the shell-creamy porcelain sand and the moon tide held its reins on the sapphires of the water and pulled it back. All of him. He was perfect. And I couldn’t love him when it was all laid out like that. Not in that cap that shadowed over his grinning face, or the relief that flooded out his frame from untold burden or the way he tugged at the sleeves of his jacket and ducked his chin behind his collar and yet kept his eyes on me when he laughed so freely, so graciously I could forget that he was dead as I was and that everything between us was so alive and beating like our hearts were.
Shit, did I sound so gay. And what was I? A naive fool?
Nothing would get fixed that easily, only idiots under that faith would end up falling to their own demise and I felt slightly bad for them. It was a good thing I caught myself before diving into that trap because Crush was still broken and I was still a ticking time bomb. Before I knew it, my laugh had faltered out and my mentor had the small smile on his pale face that didn’t reach his eyes, but he looked like he wanted to say something. I leaned on the counter like I had all the time in the world and waited for him. Stared at his features for awhile because I had this sudden dark feeling, which I pushed quickly out of my mind because I didn’t need that in my head.
“Let me... show you thomething,” he said. He turned and headed out the kitchen, beckoning me to follow him.
*
An hour had passed by and neither of us had said a thing. Well, until now.
“Um, it took me awhile to get an inthide deal,” my mentor explained tentatively, glancing back at me as he led the way through the dark maze and completely ignoring the fact that I had no idea what the heck he was talking about when he said “deal.” But he seemed rather embarrassed about it and I didn’t want to ask further about what he did to get the inside deal. The image flashed through my brain where I saw him getting inside someone and then having to be the inside for that someone to slam and pound him to their satanic delight. Yeah, I should probably stop my hyperactive mind from going ballistic before I actually did go physically hyperactive with a hypothetical broken neck in my hands and me having to wonder whether I was better than my murderer for being a little more merciful (yeah, sure), whoever my goddamn murderer was.
And I felt so fucking bad, as bad as I did back in the hospital when I first realized he sold himself out to a whore.
“Going against the rules again, huh, Mr. Goody Two Shoes?” I muttered. I knew how much of a stickler he was to his rules but then again, he’d go criminal on it if he knew he could keep me out of harm’s way. The pain in my chest didn’t stop there, now it hung over my mind like a noose and even if I wanted to opt for the hanging, I couldn’t because I guess I was eternally stuck in this state. Crush noticed I had slowed down behind so he grabbed my wrist and tugged on me to speed up. Don’t blame me, I still had no idea where the heck we were going. If he was leading me to Hades again, there was no telling if I might sock Crush in the pretty little face because I didn’t need to meet that hollow-bag-of-pretentious-all-knowing-but-actually-full-of-arrogant-snobbiness-and-shit type of dick. But so far, my mentor didn’t seem antsy or particularly worried as he was the first time he took me through this maze of hallways, but he did seem oddly uncomfortable. He kept looking back at me and to his sides to make sure that I was strictly following him and that... no one else was. Huh. So I figured he probably broke a major rule for this one. “But Crush, you rarely break the rules--”
“Yeah, only for you though.” I rolled my eyes and I could tell my mentor was getting pretty damn tired of my eye-rolling. He turned sharply at another corner in this goddamn maze, and before I could go on a stumbling ruckus, he caught my arm and steadied me.
“Crush?”
“Yeah?”
“We should, um, probably talk about...” I paused and waited, waited for him to shut me up or something but he didn’t and I took that as an okay-go. “Talk about... the thing.” The thing. How elaborate, Jay, I scolded myself. What I wanted to say was, I wanted to do things myself because it was my issue and not his, so he didn’t need to get involved in uncomfortable half-consensual shit with some sluts just to keep me safe. If there was ever a contract between angels and species like me, I was sure there was nothing that said angels were completely liable for the apprentice’s hidden background “conspiracies.” So yeah, I did think Crush was doing a little too much for me. But now, when I did want to say that all aloud, there was something holding me back like a chain to the neck, and maybe I should shove it back down my throat because I had this feeling that my mentor already understood what I meant and had been wanting to say. Well... no. If he did, then he was sure acting like an asshat if he really understood. So why the heck couldn’t I just regurgitate my thoughts? Whatever. Forget it. “Crush?”
“Yeth?”
“Where are we going?” I asked. He didn’t answer, obviously, that was the usual of him. I didn’t know why I thought he’d answer me that time, it was like expecting a different result despite having clearly proven that he refused to answer me a hundred million times before. The definition of insanity? How ya doin,’ that’s me. “Listen, I don’t know if I should be irritated at you for always ignoring my questions or just...” I twisted my lips in a knot. “You’re not even paying attention to what I’m saying, are you?” I quickened my pace so I could get a scope of his face, and when I did, he averted his eyes like he still couldn’t get over the stupidity of his own for wanting to save a dumb-ass face like mine. “Oh, now you can’t even look at me?” I asked incredulously. He pulled on my wrist roughly as if that was a comprehensive response, pursing his lips, mid-way between a pout and a halt before he got to the bruising, bleeding of his sensitive rose flesh. If he felt so guilty about it, I could totally help with making his lips bleed. Shit. “Alright, okay,” I said, shifting my shoulder blades and cracking my neck before taking the lead, dragging him out so quick the sound of his footsteps weren’t the soft thuds anymore but a silent hushed whistle, floating in the air, with his hands clutched onto my wrist real tight; until he angrily yanked me for a turn that I wasn’t prepared for. Oh, so he was pissed. I could show him that I was pissed too. I made no effort to stop myself as I stumbled into him, kicking him at his heels. Okay, now this seemed like a bad idea, shit-- the lurch churned my insides and I was flailing my arms to grasp onto something because although the idea of falling face-flat onto him wasn’t so appalling, it wasn’t good either. My momentum didn’t slow down like the rolling seconds did; he didn’t grab ahold of my body as he spun around to face me; and in the direction I was going, I was falling straight towards his parted lips, bulls-eye, until for the slightest second I had screamed no no no no no no in my mind, dodged the sweet chasm of a target, and headed straight into the darkness. Maybe I heard him exclaim, but I was more focused on meeting the cold floor once again, bracing myself for the brutal impact. He aimlessly clawed onto my jacket and reeled me back in, like a fisherman would to a restless fish, accompanied with a heart-breaking tear of the thousand-dollar threads, ripping apart at the seams. No. I cried out in despair. No. The jacket was my homeboy’s and I still needed to give it back to him. I really needed to give it back to him. I had promised.
Crush turned me, so my pitiful frostbitten face met his worried one, so sudden with a rip in the air that held us together, like the way a piano hurtled through the roof with a thunderous million soft and harsh screeches and the splintered downpour of broken wood chips and piano keys buried his face with lined scars and I wanted to cry, then cuss out at myself for wanting to cry like a baby. “Damn it, Crush,” I choked. “Why’d you have to rip my jacket? Why’d you have to go and get yourself popped cherry-less by the wrong bastard? Why’d you have to go friggin’ righteous on everything like the princess martyr you are, saving my skinny li’l ass off the hot coals, huh? Why don’t you go save the fucking universe while you’re at it?” Hot tears struck my cheeks hard, leaving them burned and searing and I had to convince myself that maybe I was a robot and my eyes had spontaneously sprung two leaks, and hack a wheezing laugh about how I was going to have a pair of Niagara Falls on my torn jacket and Crush’s too if I kept going at it. I punched him in the stomach. He teetered backwards a bit, his eyes so wide and so deep like the ocean, and so wet, tears dripping down onto his face, the corners of his lips drawn back for a sharp gasp in pained surprise. “You are...” I inhaled the whole atmosphere until my lungs screamed, “so good to me. So, so good to me.”
His face crumpled far worse than a train-wreck, while clutching his stomach and bending forward. He sobbed.
“And,” I began loudly, “don’t even think that you were never enough. Crush, you’re good to me, okay? You’re so fine like the finest piece of...” I searched for my words and I had none. “... Shoot me, man, I wanted to say finest piece of China but you’re not even Chinese.”
My mentor rubbed his eyes and a watery laugh escaped his lips.
“And I’m sorry for punching you, for being so goddamn stupid, and for blaming you for everything.” I took a step forward, I wanted to see if he’d look back at me. If he’d return the same gaze, if he could see I meant a whole lot like what his mind’s capacity could take. Which hopefully, was more than one ocean.
“Yeah, that hurt,” Crush mumbled. He sucked in air and glanced at me, fixing his cap, wetting his lips. “That really hurt.”
Honesty hurt too. I nodded. “I’m sorry, so you can punch me back if you want.”
His lips broke into a sudden grin. “Ith that how it workth? You punch me, I punch you?”
“Yeah, and same goes for me. You jump, I jump.”
Now he burst into laughter. “You know, you’re a lot cheethier than you think--”
I cringed. “Stop it-- Don’t say it--”
“Thappy guy.”
I groaned and squeezed the bridge of my nose. But then I couldn’t help but grin because this was Crush, the Crush from before, before any of this shit happened. “Alright, alright, c’mere,” I gestured him to come closer.
He seemed bewildered as he approached me. But then he came too close and I was like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
But he hugged me anyway. “Bro-hug,” he murmured into the crook of my neck. He was so warm.
“I was gonna shake hands, this is a little too bro for me,” I complained.
"Yeah, yeah, but you like it." I heard the smugness in his voice and felt thoroughly insulted. But before I could say a thing, he jerked away from me and gave me a soft smile. I had to return the smile too, only because it was law just like it was law to never let a high-five hanging. Then, without a word, he grabbed my wrist and led me the way through the darkness like my light in the shadows.
But I had to keep reminding myself that no, it didn’t end like that. No way. You couldn’t get rid of all the scars if you wanted to; all those arguments would resurface again because for now, we had only covered it up with pixie dust and fake rainbows. Nothing stayed buried forever. I stared at Crush and wondered if he knew that too. I wondered if he knew that as long as he was my mentor and I was an apprentice of some sort to him, we’d never have the equilibrium of shut up and thappy guy stuff anymore. Maybe one day, after I found my murderer, I could go back and mend it all thoroughly, but for now, flimsy duct tape for the crumbling bridge would be enough. I hoped. Or maybe, Crush could find someone else to fix it with, because I was obviously a ball of fire covered in ice and he was just a dork little sail boat who knew the waters, under, over, deep in and out. I said goodbye to him in my mind. Until next time, li’l babe.
Or maybe never.
*
“Taec, oh god, it’s Wooyoung, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. Do you know about it already?Jaebeom’s-- he’s-- gone. Oh god. Oh my god. Oh-- god-- can you tell me what the hell is going on right now?! I mean, I don’t-- Manager hyung came by my house just now and um, he asked me if I knew anything about Jaebeom hyung, anything about what could possibly lead him to go over the edge and-- oh god, I mean, what was I supposed to tell him?! Fuck. There were so many things that could’ve lead to it, I just-- I only told him that you were there to meet Jaebeom hyung at the bridge last night. I don’t know. I don’t know! What the hell is even-- Fuck. Shit. Oh my god. I can’t even believe it. What happened, Taec hyung? Why is Jaebeom... gone? I don’t wanna believe it. I really don’t. We loved him so much, he meant everything to us and now he’s just... gone... forever. And it took me so long to-- to-- getting used to the idea that he was gone from 2pm tore me apart, but now... it's permanent. He's gone from all of us, everyone, forever. Forever. Shit. Oh god, Taec hyung. I don’t want this. I really don't want this. Oh god, oh god, oh god, please don’t let this be true, please tell me it’s not true, oh god. Just. Call me back when you get this. I know you were the last person to see him alive.”
*
“‘Kay, we’re here,” Crush announced.
I stared at what he was pointing at, but I couldn’t make out anything if it was all just that black nothingness. “Wanna tell me what exactly is here?”
“The door... to the dream world,” he answered hesitantly. My mentor even did a double-take, scanning our surroundings in careful search of any single being that might have followed us, strolled by, or even breathed in the vicinity of this place, dream world so it was named.
The fire in my eyes flickered a bit, and it went a little dimmer from the chills that spidered down my spine. “Okay, so... what the hell’s a dream world?”
Crush’s shoulders slumped as if he didn’t want to explain. “You know how people dream at night?” I rolled my eyes, no, duh, people also get wasted and fucked raw, what else do they do at night? Rob a bank, maybe? I could see the unamusement my mentor had written on his face from reading my sarcastic mind. So this was why he didn't want to explain. Ah, I took note and just nodded like an obedient little boy. Take two: my mentor explained how this place held all the dreams. Apparently, there was a big door in front of me which should lead me to some more goddamn maze-like hallways filled with a billion more doors. For the record, Crush said billion and I almost wanted to correct him with seven billion until he said this: “Each door ith dethignated for the dreamth of one perthon.” Ouch. I have to go through a billion doors to find the one person I’m looking for?!
I did see the outline of a huge door. “So behind this is a bunch of regular sized doors and if I open one of them, I’m immediately thrown into someone’s dream? And I get to be a part of that dream? Interact with... in it?”
Crush nodded. “Theoretically.”
I frowned. “What do you mean, theoretically?”
He clicked his tongue. “Well, no one ith allowed to go inthide...”
“What, afraid it might blow the cover of being dead?”
“Yeah, thomething like that, but more complicated. And pleathe, don’t do anything dumb, Jaebeom, make it all theem like it’th part of the dream.”
I squinted my eyes at him. “Why this? You want me to spend my entire eternity in here looking for at least one person I know and try to talk to them?”
“Well, it ith your betht shot nextht to nothing. If you don’t like it, I’ll probably punch you,” he answered, leaning in close just to make sure I would see that he meant it, somewhat.
“Aw, how thweet of you,” I mocked him, puckering my lips up.
His face turned smug immediately. “Shut up.”
I held my hands up. “Alright, alright. So I’m eternally grateful for things you’ve done for me, now go fuck yourself over with another whore.” Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. But I did. And now Crush looked purely stunned.
“I-I had to thtop you thomehow...” he said softly, but it only seemed to be the only thing he could come up with. He was seriously so stunned his eyes were getting watery again. Shit.
“No, okay. No. That’s not what I meant... I just... ” I paused. No, I had meant what I said. All this time, I’d pretend that it didn’t bother me as much as it really did. But I hated that it was festering inside of me and it was driving me insane. “Then why the fuck would you even consider hurting yourself?!” I exploded. And it was because I cared about him that I was screaming in his face.
He winced and backed away several steps. “Well, I could athk the thame for you!” he countered. Now the tears were on his cheeks again.
“That’s just-- stop using my argument against me!” I grabbed his collar and made him face me. “You don’t get it do you? Do you even...” My words slipped out of my mind. I blankly stared into his eyes and willed for them to cry some more. Cry for me, Crush, I love it when you cry for me. He kept his watery eyes unflinchingly at my face, absorbing every word with a tremble.
“I-I know what you want to do but...” he whispered. “You already athked me the thame quethtionth before. Get to the point.”
“I’d explain but you wouldn’t get it.”
Crush shook his head immediately. “No, you don’t get it. You’re too thtupid to underthtand.”
Backfired. It totally backfired. I heaved an angry sigh of resignation. This was exactly how the arguments were like a few months back ago before we stopped talking altogether and I could see that we weren’t going to meet on the same grounds on this matter for a long time. Probably never. And I felt that dreaded ache in my chest again. I wish I had the courage to tell him that I was sorry. Not the same sorrys that I had said before, this one was different. I was so sorry that he had to get sandwiched between the wall or floor and someone’s cock just because he was afraid I’d try to suicide again. But I could never understand what he was thinking. I wanted to know if I could die thoroughly, the real deal, despite already being dead-- that’s why I kept suiciding. He wouldn’t let me because no matter how hard I’d try, I could spend an eternity and still be as dead as I was right now. But I wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t do anything for me, and maybe that might explain why I was the lackey’s lackey and he was the princess. I wanted to tell him I was so goddamn sorry for being a stupid friend. And I sure as hell didn’t want him to forgive me. He pushed my hands off his collar, turned away and huffed loudly. I kept looking for answers, for a reason to explain why the hell he’d do anything for me, but I just couldn’t understand. No matter his answer, it never seemed enough. “Could you try to explain to me?” I asked. “This’ll be the last time I try to choke something out of you. I promise.”
He stared at me. Then, he reached over and adjusted the collar of my jacket, and I could tell he was resisting the urge to chew on his lips. “Jaebeom,” he sighed, “I need you to trutht me.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do that, I’m sorry. I know you’ve given me a lot, but I just... can’t... stand it. That you’ve got the nerve to sell yourself. I didn’t ever see you like that. I never imagined it. I thought you were... different.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” Crush answered softly. He moved in closer, his eyes steady on my lips. “Jaebeom, can I athk... are you jealouth?”
Wait, I didn’t hear that right. Jealous? I jerked away from him and shook my head. “What? No.”
“Then? What? Are we juth’ gonna argue till the end? Couldn’t there be a way to make it...” He struggled with his words, they were all stuck in his throat. And then I wondered how many times a cock went down his throat raw. I wondered how many times he choked and gasped for a breath and slurped up whatever fluids there were. I wondered if he ever thought about my reaction whenever he did all of that whorish shit. Did he ever feel guilty?
“Make it perfect? You want to make it seem all happy and good and perfect? You thought you could just kiss me up and everything would be fine? Sorry, Crush, I’d hate to ruin your dreams. We’re not... the same anymore. We weren’t ever gonna be.”
“I never thought of you that way,” he murmured, ducking his head down.
He never loved me? Me neither. “Good,” I said. “That’s even better. Makes the leaving easier, doesn’t it?”
He shrugged. “I thought we were friendth.”
“You can think whatever, you never cared about what I had to say.” I turned and started heading towards the big door. I needed to get the hell away from this place. Crush made it toxic. Too toxic for me.
“Jaebeom!” he called out. He rushed up to me and grabbed my jacket and that made me downright fucking furious.
“Don’t touch the jacket!” I shouted. Crush froze and backed away.
“Thorry...” he mumbled meekly. “It’th juth... I alwayth cared about you more than anything elthe in the world. But your friendth... they had never done the thame. They threw you away, shoved their beloved friend into the freething cold river and watched you drown to your death. You can push me away, but if you’re thaying that what you’re doing to me now ithn’t like what they did to you... then don’t you dare come back.”
No, Crush was wrong. No. But he left me in shock, left me to sink down to my knees. And I couldn’t deny that if he wanted to hurt me, he had done it better than I could stab myself.
So. It turned out I was just almost as good as my murderer.
*
“Hello? Taecyeon, it’s your manager. I need to know where you are, the law enforcement are asking for you. No one else has seen Jaebeom for the past several years now, except for you, or so Wooyoung tells me. Listen, I’m... really sorry he’s not here anymore. I know how much Jaebeom meant to you, and I know he was closest to you out of everyone else. But please help your bandmates and the company out. Help us all out. If you were really the last person to have seen him, tell us what happened. No one is accusing you of anything, okay? Just come over to the precinct and clarify the details. All we want to do is figure out what happened to Jaebeom. Okay? Everyone’s already here at the precinct, so come as soon as you hear this message. Call me back too, so I know that you’re doing okay.”
*
I was young again. I soon discovered that I could shift and morph myself to look however I wanted in the dream world. Of course, I chose to look young and dashingly handsome. Besides, I was sure if anyone dreamed of me, they’d dream of me as the hot bod I used to be, not a frozen corpse. Unless of course, it was the murderer, then maybe they’d dream of me as the corpse instead.
The other thing that I discovered turned out to be somewhat of a problem. Every time I stepped into a dream, it’d seem so real... aside from the really weird shit that’d happen, so freakishly weird that I’d zip back out in a beeline. But here was the thing: the moment I was out of the dream, I’d only remember what had happened for a few minutes, and then I’d be stuck with this grossed out feeling for hours without even remembering what really had happened anymore. So, if I ever could find someone I knew and talk to them, chances were that I probably wouldn’t remember what we even talked about the moment I exited the dream. Did Crush know about this? He probably didn’t. If he did, I was sure he’d find something else, right?
Nah. He wouldn’t.
I spent days and weeks shuffling in and out of doors, and I knew it was getting close to a month of a thousand dead-ends. There was one dream that I vaguely remembered, though I couldn’t be too sure if it had been mine or someone else’s that I had walked into. I had stepped into a dark bedroom, with this thick mist hugging around the dresser and the bed. A silhouette of lady was straddling... another lady. Yeah. It was interesting. I mean, I was weirded out at first, but I stayed and watched and then found it sort of hot. The thing was, they never said a word. Sex wasn’t quiet unless you were trying to hide it. And it was hard to hide it. They kept going at it in silence until the one on top slumped over. I figured she had orgasmed, but then the lady underneath pushed the limp body off herself and didn’t seem to care how her partner fell through the mist and thudded against the floor. Then, she stared straight at me and I went, “Oh shit,” but she didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were that fucking chocolate color. Were all murderers’ eyes fucking chocolate? Because that would be creepy as fuck. She rose out of bed, stepped on her partner’s breasts, and vanished into thin air. What... the... fuck. That had to hurt, right?! The lady on the floor hadn’t made the slightest cry when she’d been stepped on. Was she... dead? I was conflicted about checking to see if that lady on the floor was okay. I mean, what was the point? This was a dream after all. But, I didn’t know, it didn’t feel right to leave the lady like that. So I got close enough to see that she wasn’t dead, watching her chest rise and fall just the slightest bit, like she was asleep. (Okay, so her boobs looked nice.) I crouched down close enough to her face, and put a finger at her wrist to check her pulse. She was alright. I was about to get up when she suddenly clawed at my wrist and yanked me back down so hard I nearly lost my balance. Oh shit, oh shit. What the fuck-- She began to sob uncontrollably, and in between gasps, she hoarsely whispered, “I-- loved her. I loved-- her so much. I’d-- do anything, even-- die for her.” She wheezed another breath and more tears fled her eyes and I sort of just nodded awkwardly because here I was, crouching over a naked lady with cum and sweat all over herself, and she was crying hysterically and I wasn’t really part of the dream to begin with nor did I want to be remembered by her if she woke up. But she kept a tight grasp on my wrist like I was supposed to do something more and I had no idea what. So I stared at her breasts while her body shook and while the idea of touching her was enticing, something blurred my vision and suddenly I was seeing a flat chest and pert nipples. And down below were a set of abs and below that... well. I backed away with a sharp gasp. No. No no no no no. I heard a piercing cry, which seemed to break the trance and everything that I’d seen of the male body had dissipated. It was her again, with her slender and curvy body, not... that. She had turned over and wailed into the carpet, seemingly more upset and devastated than before. I wanted to console her. But she jerked away from me when I tried and then she was glaring at me, her face all hot and wet. “You don’t even like me,” she spitted out and I made a face at her. “You were seeing a man just now, weren’t you? Who is he?”
*
Door number 6,572. No, I wasn’t counting, the doors just happen to have numbers on them. Convenient, right?
Yeah, right. I was fucking pissed because I was beginning to lose my patience. I wasn’t getting anywhere. I couldn’t find anyone I knew and I’d been through a lot of doors just to get to nowhere. I was better off scuttling the earth at this rate rather than going door to door looking for someone hopelessly without a productive direction to go on. This was the last door I was gonna open and then I’d be outta here, I swore to myself. And also, fuck Crush because he was the one who sent me on wild goose chase through these goddamn doors. Except... when I opened this door and stormed onto some wet dewy grass, there was a fog laying so low, I could see only outlines and dark shapes. It looked like a sort of short cliff because I could see a lot of water beyond that, an ocean maybe? But then I saw a bridge, a very iconic bridge that I couldn’t possibly miss unless I was completely blind. I traversed the expanse of wet grass until I reached the edge of the bridge, and when I got closer, the fog thinned out and I could see the majestic pipes that led up to the top of the bridge and the thick wires that lined the gaps in between.
Is that-- I heard a voice. An unmistakable voice. --her. It’s her! I paced faster, up onto the bridge where it was so wide, big enough for six lanes of cars, with gated off pathways on each side of the bridge for people to walk and bike. But there were no cars at all and only one person that I could hear, singing softly in the distance, so I kept going and going and it seemed as if the bridge spanned forever. I broke into a jog for about fifteen minutes until I saw a silhouette leaning on the railing, looking out into the fog and ocean and everything in me got fuzzy and excited. The thrill of it, the triumph of having found someone, or even something close to a lead-- hell, it felt so good. I must’ve been dreaming. Wait-- I was in a dream. Jay, you’re an idiot. I grinned like monkey and dashed full speed ahead to the silhouette without stopping. It had to be her. It had to be.
Once I got close enough, she turned at the sight of me, jaw dropped and eyes wide and I rammed straight into her with a crushing hug. I didn’t care. If this was the wrong person, she sure as hell looked like someone I knew. She pried me off and took one long look at me. Her eyes were so glassy and shiny, I could see the reflection of myself, tired and exhausted, my face covered in a sheen of sweat and moisture from the fog. I pulled my cap off, ran my hands through my tousled hair, stuck it back on, but she just kept staring in awe. “Jay...?” she whispered in shock.
“The one and only,” I answered with a grin. Her eyes sparkled and she beamed like sunshine and pulled me in for another hug.
“Oh, Jay, I’ve missed you,” she said softly. “Is it really you? I’ve missed you so much.”
“Hey, not a tear on the jacket, alright, Tiffany?” I joked. She giggled and moved away, massaging my shoulders.
“And you haven’t aged a day since I last saw you!”
“Why the heck do you sound surprised?” I asked with pretend-hurt, while she shrugged happily, tugging on her chestnut ringlets around the nape of her neck and letting it drape over on one shoulder. “Well, you look old,” I said, mocking her chirpy face.
“Hey!” Tiffany exclaimed with laughter, hitting me across the arm. She stole my cap and pulled it over her hair. “Nyah nyah nyah I’m Jay, I’m stupid and old,” she mocked back at me. I laughed and so did she and for once, it really felt like the good old days. The only thing that was missing, of course, was my homeboy and the others, Wooyoung, Minjun, Chansung, and Junho. That would have made this meetup absolutely perfect. But something heavy hung over my chest when I thought about them, ripped my all of insides out and so many scars reopened, the betrayal poured like black ink and drowned me to bottomless depths, and the deadness in those chocolate eyes haunted me and hollowed me out. Someone had given me up, pushed me out once before. When I was faced with that scandal, they exiled me. It wasn’t even the company’s fault. They were trying to get the damage controlled, and they told me that when we all had drifted to the eye of the storm, I could be with them again, I could still be a leader for them. But some asshole waltzed right in and told me to get the fuck out. I kept thinking about who it could have been, I kept thinking about what I had said to have escalated everything-- and although I knew I said some pretty irrational shit, I was usually right. It was called the leadja’s instinct, similar to how mothers have their maternal instinct. Yeah. Someone in the mix was a psychopath. They couldn’t handle the truth being told, being showcased to the world in the most humiliating way possible. I could see why I was killed. I died for the rest of those kids, those boys I grew up with, even if it wasn’t that long, wasn’t worth the time to even be cherished. They had to know it, they had to know that I loved them. If they didn’t love me, it still didn’t matter. I’d still die for them.
Tiffany patted my shoulder. “Jay, stop zoning out,” she said gently. I nodded lazily, glanced at her, and gave her an exaggerated grin. She giggled again, so innocently, I almost felt the heaviness engulf me whole. It hurt, for some reason. But I had missed this more than I could feel torn about it.
*
Tiffany was wearing a brown leather jacket over some graphic tee, a pair of faded jeans, and red flip flops. She had also snatched my cap, but it looked alright on her so I let her keep it. I offered my arm to her and she looped hers around mine and we walked along the Golden Gate bridge, catching up on her life and what I had missed.
“So, why San Fran?” I asked, looking out at the bay on one side, and the ocean on the other. She shrugged.
“I don’t know, I wanted to go home but somehow found myself here,” she said, her mind evidently elsewhere when she stared at the sidewalk. It was her birthplace after all, even if she hadn’t grown up in San Francisco. For the slightest second, I braced myself for the same question in return, and then I wouldn’t have a legit answer other than just wanting to find her and finding her usually meant somewhere in LA, not this city and definitely not this bridge. “Actually, Jay, I was thinking about you.” I glanced at her worriedly, but she kept her eyes on her feet. “You were at a bridge, too-- though not here of course... in South Korea, you know, before you...”
I swallowed slowly and just nodded.
“Sorry, I just...” She looked up in a flash and her eyes were watery, which somehow reminded me of Crush and something in me broke a little. “But I don’t mean to--”
“Nah, it’s okay.” I shrugged it off, giving her a small smile. Her lips parted, halfway into a sentence that could have meant worse things, but she saw the look on my face and she nodded with a smile too, even if it wasn’t something that reached her eyes.
“So... how are you and Khun?” I asked. She’d been able to talk endlessly, but when my mouth was wide open about this topic, she suddenly grew quiet. And the blood drained out of her face. “Tiffany, you okay?”
“Huh?” She glanced at me and quickly smiled again. “Yes, yeah. I’m good. We’re just...” Tiffany shook her head with a long sigh. “I don’t know, Jay. We’re not that close anymore. I mean, I still love him...” Her face was scrunched up when she said that. That was sure a lot of love. “... But we just haven’t been talking as much, I guess, because of our schedules and things.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Just because I died doesn’t account for more schedules for the both of you.”
Tiffany clenched her eyes shut for a second, pushed a stray strand out of her face, with her mouth in a tight line. “Fine, you’re right. It doesn’t.”
“So? What happened?” I prompted.
She turned away. “I don’t know, but if I knew then I’d fix it. But then, I’m sure it’s just a lot of little things that got added up together.”
I squinted at her. “What really happened, Tiffany?”
“I think um... I think it started a few weeks before you... you...” I nodded. “Right,” she said, nodding as well, “before that happened. Khun and I were out in the middle of the night, clubbing or whatever. We were hungry so Khun brought me to a little shop, the one that you guys used to go to for birthdays and group anniversaries. Except Khun went in alone and ran into you in the back kitchen where you guys got into a fight. I freaked when I saw you holding a knife at Khun. He told you to put it down, and you did, but then he attacked you. I called for some help because Khun was really beating you up and you didn’t fight back and then Taec came and--”
I stopped her. “Slow down. Taec?”
“Yeah, Taec, Ok Taecyeon, you know, your best friend?”
“My best friend...” I echoed her. My homeboy. Everything rushed back into my head so quickly, I got a bit dizzy. The ugly green beanie. Him waiting on that street. That was Taecyeon. Then who the fuck was in that black company van coming down the street, the one that Taecyeon was waiting for to get picked up that night?
“Yes. He’s the source to your happiness, you know,” Tiffany said with a glittery smile and I cocked a questioning brow at her. Don't tell me there was something more to us than I could ever have known, I would have felt like a loser about it for being unfaithful for so many years. Huh, I guess I did feel-- She nudged me in the ribs. “Dried mangoes.”
“Ah.”
She bit back on her giddy-ass smile, which, in a few seconds, returned to the grim frown once again. “Anyways, Taec came and broke up the fight. I had no idea what you guys were fighting about, but you said something that obviously made Khun pissed off and when Taec heard about it, he was pretty upset about it too.”
“What, so it’s my fault?” I muttered.
“Well-- no,” she sighed wistfully. “I don’t think it’s your fault, Jay. A few days after that, I went to check up on Khun and he was acting really... weird. I don’t know. He was just so out of it. I wanted to call you and ask why you guys argued but I didn’t know your number and if I asked either Khun or Taec for it, they were probably going to say no anyway. And I asked the others too, but they didn’t know it either.
“In the mean time, I kept asking Khun what was wrong but he wouldn’t talk. He didn’t talk for a week and when he did, it couldn’t be anything about you or Taec. That’s when it occurred to me that Khun was also pissed at Taec which didn’t make sense to me... until I realized that not only was Taec unhappy about what you did to Khun-- whatever that was-- but he was also unhappy about whatever Khun did to you. Because from my point of view, at first, and no grudges, Jay, I thought you were the bad guy. But the way Taec was acting... that made it seem like Khun was in a lot of wrong too.” I looked at her, completely bewildered. She sighed again. “I’m probably not making a lot of sense. But I’ve been thinking about it for a very long time...” Tiffany paused, un-circling her arm out of mine and squeezing my shoulder. “But you’re here now. So could you tell me what happened?”
“I can’t.” I shook my head and I could see her eagerness falter. “Sorry, Tiffany, I don’t really remember.”
“Oh,” she answered in disappointment. She fiddled with the rings on her fingers, paying no attention to the scenery in front of us as if she didn’t need to, having seen it so many times.
I didn't want to stop her there, she seemed like she was getting somewhere. “But, do you remember anything else from that fight? What else did you see, other than my knife which I didn’t use?”
“Um...” Her brows furrowed and she thought about it long and hard. I felt bad for using her, I was sure Crush would have scolded me for this.
“Tiffany, it’s okay if you can’t--”
“No, I do remember seeing something!” she gasped. “It was a, uh, like one of those memory cards for a camera? That’s the only thing I can remember, the only thing that seemed out of place.” Her eyes met mine, filled with hope.
The memory card. I stared at her with wide eyes, as big as the moon probably. “Oh... fuck.”
“What? What, Jay, what is it?” she asked worriedly.
I sucked in the ocean air. It was a little salty and warm. “It’s-- it’s okay. Just keep going... with the story.”
“But what’s in the memory card?” Tiffany questioned me. “Was it important?” I looked at her face, concern pouring out of her gaze, her way of reaching out to me. She held my shoulders, as if trying to tell me that it was okay to talk to her, that she was there for me. But I didn’t know how to tell her. I couldn’t possibly tell her. That’d be a dick move, especially as a friend. But Tiffany waited patiently and I gave as blank and innocent of a stare as I could so she wouldn't suspect or question me more than necessary and then she seemed to understand, probably thinking that when I was ready, I’d explain what exactly was in the memory card that caused the fight between Nichkhun and me. She pursed her lips. “Well... I think that was how we started to drift apart. And hey, part of it is due to our schedules but the biggest reason was that fight. And Jay, I don’t know what’s wrong with Khun. I tried talking to him, I really did. I tried to be understanding...”
Oh. Oh. It dawned on me. “Tiffany... you don’t trust him, do you?”
She let out a sharp exhale. “I’d hate to--”
“Just say it,” I cut in.
“I--I don’t trust him...” her voice faltered out. She cringed as much as she had said she loved him earlier. Hmm. “But, but, I don’t know why. Just some instinct,” she added quickly, as if trying to put on some small tiny band aids to the gushing bloody wound. As if that would really help.
“And?”
“So I thought, maybe I should stay away from him for a little bit. But he got... he claimed that he was worried, but I think he got suspicious which made me more suspicious of him.”
“And?”
“He told Taec to call me, to check up on me. Isn’t that weird?!”
“Uh... no,” I said. Damn it, I thought she was leading me to something good.
“But isn’t that of any significance to you?” Tiffany asked anxiously. “I mean, I definitely think it is!”
“Well, if it is, I’m not seeing it,” I said, losing interest.
She groaned in frustration. “It’s significant because it seemed like Khun didn’t have the guts to confront me himself!”
I wasn’t trying to be a dating counselor for her, damn it. So, I nodded my head slowly. “So... he felt guilty. Really guilty.”
She nodded in excitement, seeing that I was finally getting her, but not really. “Yes. About something, I don’t know what, though.”
But I knew what it was, I just couldn’t tell her. So I played along. “So... all we have to do is figure out what he was guilty about--”
“But Jay, here’s the plot twist...”
Oh? A curve ball? If this was something new, I didn’t know if I could stomach this.
“Let’s start from the day before you...” she swallowed hard, “passed away. Chansung, Junho, and Nichkhun share the dorm together, right? And Taecyeon, Minjun, and Wooyoung all have their own homes. So, Nichkhun gets a call from Wooyoung, asking him to go out and watch a movie the following night. Nichkhun declines, saying he has plans with me. Except that we didn’t, so I don’t know why he’d say that. Now, the following night, the night that you fell, Taecyeon leaves his own home to go visit you at the bridge, right? Chansung and Junho were definitely at the dorm at that time, having a late dinner, when Nichkhun leaves their dorm too. Wooyoung’s plans with Nichkhun didn’t work out so he went with Minjun instead. The only two people whose alibis don’t check out are Taecyeon and Nichkhun.”
“Well, Taecyeon’s alibi would’ve been me but I went poof and Nichkhun’s alibi was supposed to be you, but you two never saw each other that night?”
Tiffany nodded. “We never did, but he told the police that he did.”
“Why the fuck would Nichkhun lie?” I asked harshly. “Where did he go that night?”
“I don’t know...”
“And you didn’t think to tell the cops that your boyfriend was never with you that night?!”
“I didn’t--”
“God, Tiffany. Are you an idiot?!” I cried, rummaging my hands through my hair and tugging on it so hard the scalp hurt as much as my mind-splitting headache.
“Well, they jumped the gun and went after Taecyeon because he vanished into thin air for two days after that night!”
I glared at her. “Why’d he do that?”
She shrugged and said in a shrill voice, “I don’t freaking know, Jay! All I know is that they saw some video feed of Taecyeon stopping at a highway toll just a mile to and from the bridge and they knew he was there with you. He was the last person to have seen you before you died, right? And when Taec disappeared after that night, don’t you think the police would’ve found that suspicious?” she asked, all worked up and antsy. I shook my head in pure disbelief. This was fucked up. “Well, they did and anyone else who wanted to come in later and tell them the real facts, they tossed it out or just refused to believe it. That’s the idiot police for you. And the public ate it up.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. “Fuck them.”
“After they found Taec, there was a huge lawsuit. The police couldn’t win because they didn’t have any other evidence. And Taec... he went to the army for a while. It was the best choice then, to walk away from all that attention and let it die down. But, after he got out, he never went back to 2PM.”
“But-- I see him go to dance practice every week--” I sputtered.
“He just dances with them because he misses them!” she exclaimed, her face crumpled up with despair. “W-When he’s lucky, he does back up dances for the other rookie groups, the dances where he can go with a mask so people won’t know it’s him...”
“No,” I shook my head, “that’s bullshit.”
Tiffany looked just about ready to cry. “But it’s true, Jay, that’s what happened. Do you know what year it is right now?” 2014, right? Or was it 2015? I shook my head, it hadn't occurred to me that my sense of time was blurred and convoluted. "2020. Almost February. Taec went into the army in early 2016 after that mess that followed all throughout 2015."
Six years. I had been dead for almost six years. They've probably moved on. They probably didn't care about me anymore, much less even remember me. No. No. They wouldn't forget. They couldn't. I drew in close to her. “So you think he did it? You think Taecyeon killed me?”
“I--”
I shoved her against the railing. “Think about it, Tiffany!” I bellowed in her face. “Taec doesn’t have a fucking motive to do it! Taec couldn’t have done it-- That’s just-- No! No no no no no.” I was losing control. I had all this explosive anger inside, bubbling and sizzling through every layer of me, I yearned to unleash and let it wreak havoc, let myself snap everyone's necks like toothpicks, let myself seize their hopes and organs and squeeze them fucking dry. I had to keep it in. I’d save it for the murderer. But Tiffany froze, frightened and shivering at my sudden outburst, like a baby bunny frozen in sheer shock in the jaws of a growling bloodthirsty lion. It pained me. I held her shoulders, trying to calm myself down, trying to reassure her that I wasn’t turning into some senseless monster. Sorry, I wanted to tell her, but that got stuck in my throat like it always did when I had tried to apologize to my mentor. Maybe she understood that I hadn’t meant to yell at her, maybe she was warm-hearted like I hoped she was, but she definitely clasped her fingers over my wrist and held it like she could take my fury. So have it. But she needed to understand that it couldn't have been Taecyeon, because she was stuck in the same pitiful flytrap the real murderer had caught the cops in, fooled them idiots, could've even mooned at them, but they were so so blind and in love in their little delicious game of trying to make a murderer out of the most righteous guy I'd ever known before I died and she needed me to tell her that. I moved in close to her. Gentle. But up close and personal would have her naivety burn for a little bit. I shook my head. “You’d never guess the motherfucker who really shoved me off that bridge that night. You’d never guess what made him do it. But I’ll--”
There was a loud deafening sound. My ear drums immediately cut out the noise, but I saw the look on Tiffany’s face. Alarmed. Then my ears blipped out with an excruciatingly high-pitched screech, I clutched my ears and groaned-- fuck fuck fuck-- the sound suddenly stopped and I could hear the rest of it, echoing, vibrating against the pipes of the bridge. “--FANY! TIFFANY... WAKE UP...”
Everything around us rumbled, like as if there was an earthquake pulling the dream apart into pieces. The cliff on the end of the bridge was drifting away, the waves in the ocean and bay grew violent, and the foundation rattled and shook. Tiffany was waking up. The dream version Tiffany grabbed onto my arms with tears streaming down her face, tugging at my sleeves in desperation like she didn't want to see me go, like she couldn't bear to lose me again. I shook my head in regret. I did want to stay but we were being torn apart even in her dream, and somehow that knocked the wind out of me, skewered my bones to the vertigo feeling of emptiness and loss because there was absolutely nothing I could do and yet, she wouldn't take that for an answer. She hauled me close enough to her so she could kiss me on the cheek, my eyes met hers in that quick second, and there were so many things I wanted to say, but all it amounted to were four small words-- I'd miss her-- and I couldn't even say it aloud. Tiffany nodded as if she understood, but when I turned to run, okay, nope, she didn't get me, her hands were still grasped onto my wrist. You mean to say you want me to take you with me?! my face screamed incredulously at her insane despair. But I had to get out. Alone. I pushed Tiffany away and she let out a heartbroken sob. I had to get out now. I'm sorry, Tiffany. I promise I'll see you again. I promise. But the moment I was out the door, I’d forget-- I ran. I ran like mad. I kept it like a mantra. Memory card. Taec’s the murderer. Nichkhun’s guilty. Memory card. Taec’s the murderer. Nichkhun’s guilty.
Memory card. Taec’s-- wait, wasn’t he guilty? Then Nichkhun’s the murderer. Wait, what was in the memory card-- Shit.
*
[ Next]
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