Work Text:
The train car is occupied with the earliest of its morning commuters, most of whom stay thankfully silent as they’re delivered across the shrieking rails.
Eunseok stands holding onto a pole trying not to fall asleep or fall over. He isn’t terrible at waking up on time but it’s been getting increasingly harder recently. The sun is rising later and later. By the time his alarm went off this morning, it was still pitch black outside.
He needs to ask for a day off. Maybe two. Just dedicate some time solely to catching up on sleep. To wake up at a time that his body deems acceptable. After he wraps up his current project, he’ll ask. He’ll be meticulous with the final report and hand it in with a smile and try to catch his boss in a good mood.
In the midst of formulating his plan, his thoughts are cut off by a sharp gasp. Another passenger has fallen forward from his seat onto the ground. His head lies by Eunseok’s feet. His body is strangely rigid, his limbs still bent in approximation of how he was sitting. His eyes are wide open. Dry and unblinking. Grey.
Eunseok crouches down to him, puts a hand on his shoulder, and gently shakes him. Murmurs questions that feel futile. Asks if he’s okay. Waits and hopes for the lips on his ashen face to quiver.
One of the man’s arms falls stiffly outward. His wrist is covered in a strange red rash, like he’d touched a potent form of poison ivy.
“Is he dead?” someone next to him asks. Eunseok wants to snap at them for the flippant tone but when he turns around, he sees that it’s a kid in a school uniform, their face filled with sheer terror.
Someone else has pressed the emergency alarm in the interim. Its keen sound pierces through the metal container. The train careens to a halt just as it approaches an above-ground station. The sky has barely begun to lighten up. Eunseok keeps staring at the man’s eyes, willing colour to return to them too.
/
Eunseok’s hands are cold from standing outside for so long. The police officers kept him for far longer than he thought was necessary, asking him for statements on things he knew nothing about. He didn’t think he deserved the weird amount of hostility he was receiving. It’s not like he was the one who killed him.
Like any reasonable person would be, he’s shaken up. He watched the man get zipped into a body bag. His eyes were never closed. Eunseok kept waiting for them to do something. For the shrunken pupils to shake. For the eyelids to flicker. Some type of acknowledgement of where he was headed.
But of course he can't.
Eunseok is an hour late by the time he gets to his stop. Nothing about the day feels important anymore. He should have been more detailed in his text to his boss. Gotten the rest of the day off instead of asking forgiveness for being late.
He compensates by stopping to buy cigarettes. The corner store's owner greets him with an unsurprised familiarity and reaches for a pack of Marlboro Lights without needing to be told.
Eunseok's been trying to quit. Went four months with only one lapse. Sohee will be pissed if he smells it on him. But his frigid hands are still shaking and he needs something to make it stop. This is all he can think of. He feels small and pathetic to use the tragedy as justification for his vices.
It didn’t feel right to ask for the details. He didn’t even know the man’s name. He was there when he watched a paramedic go through his pockets for ID. There was a photo of two little girls in his wallet.
Eunseok hurriedly tears the plastic off the box. It takes three tries for his stiff thumb to catch on his lighter’s wheel. After the exhilaration of the first drag, his breathing remains uneven.
/
An imperceptible amount of time staring at meaningless documents on his work desktop takes Eunseok only until lunch time. He lets routine take hold and auto-pilot his body, moving his legs into a laboured journey to Sohee’s desk.
Sohee's still on the phone. He raises his eyebrows at Eunseok in greeting and swivels his chair around after saying some hurried goodbyes.
Eunseok sits down in the empty chair of his desk neighbour, who's always out in recruitment meetings or working from home. Luckier and smarter than Eunseok. Maybe he needs to make a change.
Sohee doesn't mention the cigarette but his nose twitches, betraying the thought running under his question.
"Why were you late?"
Eunseok unscrews the lid of his thermos. He should go to the kitchen for a spoon but standing up again feels unfeasible.
"Someone on my train died." Saying it out loud doesn’t do anything to the knot in his stomach but tug it tighter.
Sohee’s face falls. "Oh, fuck. That’s awful. Like, they had a heart attack or something?"
The knot squeezes itself into something unbearable. Eunseok tries to think past the blunt throb as it reaches his temples. "No. He—I don't know."
Sohee shakes his head, muttering with disdain. "Terrible."
Eunseok is quiet. Foregoes the spoon and drinks his soup. It scalds his tongue. This pain is an unusual solace that distracts him from the others. "His eyes were grey.”
"What?"
Eunseok can’t make his voice go any louder than a whisper. "His eyes were grey."
"You saw him?" Sohee asks with widened eyes.
"I touched him. I thought he might still be alive."
"Go home."
Eunseok looks at Sohee. "What? No."
“I'll tell Joohyun. You shouldn't be here. Go home."
"I have to finish the—"
"No, you have to go home," Sohee says sternly. "Send me whatever you have so far. I'll handle it."
Eunseok opens his mouth again. Exhaustion gets the better of him. Sohee puts a hand on his knee until he yields.
/
It doesn’t help right away. Eunseok takes a long nap when he gets home and wakes up on his couch covered in sweat. It takes him one frightened moment to realize where he even is and recall why his eyes are opening into the complete darkness of his living room.
The door to his balcony makes an irritating squeak as it slides open. The outside air is cool on the back of his neck and makes him shudder. His ashtray is still on the tiny side table. It was forgotten about after his last attempt to quit. The sight of it activates a guilty longing that has Eunseok searching through his work bag.
He sits cross-legged on his balcony and smokes there until his ass gets numb against the concrete. Sohee texted him several times while he was asleep. Four times to check in that he was okay and once to say he should take the next day off too.
Eunseok replies with gratitude and suppresses the urge to admit to Sohee that he’s smoking again. He’ll find out soon enough. Then Eunseok will be bombarded with affectionate yet stern admonishments that make him feel worse than the nicotine withdrawal ever could. (But it’s close.)
A pang of hunger hits him when he rises to his feet. There’s hardly any food in the fridge—today was supposed to be his groceries day. He weighs his options between his struggle meals and decides to run to the convenience store instead. He may as well round out his day of bad decisions with instant ramen.
On his way out of his building, he sees another resident approaching the entrance. Though his weary memory is usually not to be trusted, Eunseok recognizes him. It would be hard to forget, with a face like that. Almost unnervingly pretty.
Eunseok swerves away but the man’s feet take a crooked route towards him. They bump shoulders before Eunseok can avoid him. He mumbles an apology, more out of instinct than anything else, but the man keeps walking like it never happened.
As he watches him disappear through the double doors, Eunseok wonders whether the man’s drunk. But he doesn’t stagger. Doesn’t sway. He doesn’t seem to have even noticed Eunseok at all. His jacket hangs carelessly off one shoulder. Reveals an expanse of pale skin. There’s an angry red scratch near the blade, like a fracture in a porcelain plate.
/
One day off doesn’t help. Eunseok takes another. It turns into the rest of the week. Sohee texts to check in but Eunseok doesn’t return his calls.
For the next few days, he only leaves when he really needs to—which has turned into almost never once he starts scheduling his groceries to get delivered. That turns his only excursion into going to the gas station to buy cigarettes, which, well—he only does that when he can’t sleep.
He hasn’t slept all week.
Then there’s the man. Eunseok keeps seeing him. He never looks well. Wears a face with no discernable expression or thought. They brush past each other in the lobby at odd hours. He passes him with no acknowledgement that Eunseok is there. Acts like he, too, isn’t where he really is.
But just once they make eye contact on Eunseok’s way home. A fleeting awareness of each other’s existence. It brings Eunseok a queer form of comfort to be seen by someone who knows him only in these strange, dark hours.
From his balcony, he can see where the street diverges into a path leading into the building’s back entrance. Sometimes he takes it on his nighttime outings when he would rather brave the dark than walk towards all the rapid evidence of life towards the main roads.
If he leaves his bedroom window open and closes his eyes, he can hear the distant rush of traffic. Occasional wails of emergency vehicles. They start to feel more frequent when the night reaches into the early hours of the next day, but he must be imagining it.
If he stays on his balcony for long enough at night, he’ll see the man down below, recognizable by his burdened gait. Always wearing clothing that seems too cold for the steadily dropping temperatures. Sometimes he lingers by the streetlight where the path meets an incongruous patch of grass.
A faint orange ring flickers on and off by his face. Eunseok raises his own cigarette to his mouth and wonders if the man can see his as well.
/
On his first day back to work, Eunseok wakes up with a headache and despair in the pit of his stomach. A generous estimate of his rest would be three hours. He squeezes his eyes open and shut several times, steeling himself to think about something other than going back to sleep.
It helps that he has permission to work from home for the foreseeable future. It’s a temporary arrangement, he tells himself. Joohyun wouldn’t have agreed if it wasn’t a reasonable request to begin with. That’s what Sohee said too.
He sets himself up in the living room, turning his inadequate excuse for a dining table into his work station.
Near the end of his work day, someone punches in the keycode to his door. Each pressed digit emits a low beep. Ten numbers instead of the typical four, because Eunseok gets paranoid. It took Sungchan a few weeks of trying before he finally memorized it.
"Hey," Eunseok says without looking up. He's spent the last half-hour on Teams explaining to his coworker how to digitally sign a PDF. They still don't get it and he's one more inane question away from picking up the phone to inquire whether they left their common sense at home today.
"You okay?" Sungchan asks as he drops his gym bag on the living room floor. His hair is still a little damp from the shower.
"Fine."
Eunseok is not fine. He wants to reach into his laptop and smack his colleague. Shake them by the collar. Instead he picks up his phone and records himself reading out the first set of instructions he wrote to them. He sends it. They immediately understand. It makes him feel a little bad for getting annoyed.
"That sounded pointed." Sungchan's laugh comes to an abrupt stop when he properly looks at Eunseok for the first time. "Dude, are you sure you're okay?"
"I’m okay," Eunseok lies again. "Just give me a minute to finish up."
He’s pretty sure Sungchan’s appearance is Sohee’s doing. Eunseok only got his dinner invitation a few hours ago and it felt like a test. Sungchan isn’t the type to spring plans on him the day of, not unless it’s urgent. But here he is on his couch while Eunseok tries to ignore the beams of concern shooting from his friend’s eyes.
Their silence is interrupted only by Eunseok typing out some final messages. Sending Sohee a GIF of a dog ripping into a head of cabbage. Sohee reacts to it with a thumbs-up before Eunseok shuts his laptop and joins Sungchan on the couch.
"Do you wanna get take-out?" Sungchan asks, pretending to stare at his phone. Terrible at feigning casualness.
"How's the weather outside?" The end of Eunseok’s question becomes smothered into a yawn.
Sungchan stretches his arms up over his head. Lets out a satisfied groan that he should really only keep to himself and his closest friends. "Weirdly hot. Like, fifteen degrees?"
Eunseok could do with a walk. He kept the windows closed all day in fear of another gasp. Another inexplicable tragedy that will set off his anxieties once more. But it’s not worth it. It doesn’t make any sense. He can’t let what isn’t real keep him trapped.
“Okay,” he says with a sense of finality. “Sushi?”
/
It’s not just him. There’s a shared sense of exhaustion hanging over everyone. It could be the days getting shorter. Tonight, it’s completely dark out by the time he and Sungchan leave with their take-out order.
The cashier, who doesn’t know their names but knows their orders by heart, seemed morose. She barely glanced up when she saw them today.
They approach the crosswalk as its numbers are dwindling down. Sungchan glances at him with a question in his eyes and Eunseok shakes his head. He’d rather not take the chance. Plus, he doesn’t feel like running.
The temperature’s fallen with the sun. Eunseok wishes he had brought his jacket after all. A gust of wind hits them and Sungchan shivers despite being in a thick hoodie. The plastic bag in his hand rustles noisily.
“I thought you said it was hot,” Eunseok complains, just to be a pest.
“It was hot. You turned it cold with your gloominess. You’ve barely said anything today.”
Eunseok doesn’t really want to get into it. The more he’s thought about it the worse he’s felt. He doesn’t know if Sungchan knows but he doesn’t want to talk about it. Eunseok will never know anything else. It’s best to just chalk it up to a terrible set of circumstances. It’s not like he got the worst deal out of it.
“It’s just work.”
“You should take some time off.”
“I took my sick days last week.”
Sungchan scoffs. “That’s not a break. Take actual time off. Go on a vacation or something. Stare at the sunrise on a beach.”
“Yeah, because the beach is such a nice place to visit in October.”
“I’m just worried about you, dick.”
“I know. Thanks.” Eunseok manages a smile. It’s enough for Sungchan.
“Oh shit,” Sungchan says. They’ve missed their signal again. The numbers have just started their countdown.
“It’s too far. We won’t make it.”
Most of their food is cold. They can microwave the miso soup if need be. Neither of them are in a hurry.
Sungchan shrugs and stays put. The stalled cars start to pick up speed.
On the other side of the street, a driver blares their horn. The sound grates on Eunseok’s ears and makes him wince. He squints at the altercation, trying to discern its cause, and sees it continue its journey.
A man is crossing into moving traffic. Slouching along like a zombie.
Sungchan’s observation follows. “What the fuck? What’s he doing?”
More horns. The screech of tires. Rubber squealing against pavement. He’s only halfway across. He stares straight ahead. Unaware or ignoring it all.
A cacophony of horrible sounds that reminds him of a train screeching to a halt. It’s multiple cars desperately trying to slow down in time. Eunseok’s not sure if he’s seeing things right, but the man’s eyes look closed.
Eunseok looks away from the next part. When he wills his eyes to return to the scene, the pedestrian light turns over. A green person blinks on, trapped and static in its metal container.
The man is on the ground. The impact of his body is left across a windshield. The driver clambers out from their door, nearly falling out and hurrying toward him.
Their take-out is dropped to the floor as Sungchan takes out his phone and rushes through an explanation.
"Yeah, someone just got hit by a car. I don't know. He walked into the street. He's bleeding a lot, fuck—I'm sorry—Yeah, please."
Eunseok's feet carry him forward. He doesn't mean to. But he needs to see. From a far-off realm, he can hear Sungchan's faint calls of his name.
The confirmation terrifies him more than the rest. It’s worse. Despite the arm bent at its horrible, abnormal angle and the blood seeping from his head into the cracks on the street—it's worse.
Eyes wide open, blankly staring at nothing. What was once black clouded over with grey. The corners of the man’s lips start to relax as Eunseok approaches but he knows what he just saw.
A smile.
/
The vision of the ambulance lights flashing makes Eunseok feel a sickening pang of deja vu. It's all too soon. A horrible coincidence, he wants to believe.
They swallowed down their tasteless food in silence. Didn't bother reheating the soup. Sungchan started at least five sentences he never finished. Just a soft request to stay over and Eunseok's nod.
While Sungchan takes another shower, Eunseok looks through his closet for something he can lend him to wear. His hand brushes against the button-down he wore to work on Monday. Images of pale eyes trespass on his thoughts. He shudders.
He zeroes into the muffled sound of running water until his pulse slows down.
/
It’s at its worst tonight. Eunseok can’t sleep. The usual thing to do is to pace around his living room or haunt his own balcony. But while Sungchan isn’t a light sleeper, Eunseok would rather not risk spooking him.
The alternative is to pace outside. He shrugs on a jacket and, after a moment of penitent deliberation, tucks his cigarettes and lighter into his pocket. It makes him feel like a teenager sneaking out of his parents’ home.
But Eunseok’s a grown man. Or something. Maybe he won’t even smoke. The cold air might be enough of a shock to the system. Hopefully it’s gotten even brisker. Give a valid reason to the numbness of his hands and face.
When he steps out the back door of his apartment building, he’s at once glad to feel the chill and disappointed to realize his fingers are twitching to hold something.
Just one more and then he’ll throw them away. He withdraws a cigarette from its pack and starts listing off the reasons he started repeating to himself four months ago.
It’s bad for his health. That one’s obvious.
He catches it between his teeth. It’s expensive. He would rather save the money for some obscure, yet-unknown purpose than to record it in his monthly budget knowing it was wasted on this.
He lights it. He’s sick of losing one-on-ones with Sungchan because his lungs give up on him in the middle of a play. That had been the breaking point in his initial decision to quit. The pitiful look in Sungchan’s eyes was too much for his ego.
He takes his first drag. His eyes flutter closed as he inhales. The reasons float up behind his eyelids and dissipate as he slowly breathes out through his nose. Fuck. He hates being led by feeling but he can’t reject the indisputable.
Maybe he should cut himself some slack. What has this week been? Even after today, he couldn’t fully admit to Sungchan what had happened. A sinister fluke. Beginning to articulate it feels like pushing himself to the precipice of delusion.
“Can I get a light?”
Eunseok jumps. His eyes fly open like he’s been shaken awake. He looks down to his feet, inexplicably, before he turns to his left.
“Sorry,” says the same, unfamiliar voice. The word is mumbled around a cigarette.
Eunseok has to squint to make out his face at first. His vision hasn’t acclimated to the scarce amount of light. It’s the man. His neighbour. Has he been standing there this whole time?
The first thing he thinks is that the man must never feel cold. His denim jacket is unbuttoned over a tank top. A silver necklace hangs over his protruding collarbones.
The man quirks his brow. A polite so?
Eunseok remembers his request. When the man leans into the flare of Eunseok's lighter, Eunseok can confirm his long-running suspicion that he’s unfairly beautiful.
He takes a step backward to keep a respectable distance between them. Eunseok appreciates it. It reminds him of yet another reason he quit: he hates that the smoking area begets awkward small talk. He’s happy to loan his lighter and share a polite nod but he’s easily annoyed when people try to shoot the shit.
The man takes a drag, looking elsewhere. Eunseok watches him carefully and tries not to be caught out.
It’s hard to fully discern his appearance. One of the only two lights attached to this side of the building is blown out. The other flickers periodically because no one cares enough to tell the super or the super doesn’t care enough to fix it.
Eunseok knows he’s staring too much. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep that’s inhibiting any shame. Or it’s that he sees something familiar in the other man’s face.
Fatigue, for one. It’s worse on him. Dark wells beneath his eyes. His lips are dry and cracked around the filter. They look picked at and bitten. Eunseok thinks something he shouldn’t.
Maybe he wants to shoot the shit after all.
But he doesn’t. The other thing he sees—if he’s seeing right at all—is something foreboding. Minute tremors in the man’s mouth and between his brows. Calling it stress seems trivial.
Eunseok’s cigarette is nearly at its end. He debates having another, just to further stall. It’s about himself now. He doesn’t want to return to bed yet. There’s no sleep or sweet dreams to look forward to. Being in the darkness of his room is enough to bring forth the intrusions. He can’t name them. Not yet.
Smoking more seems like a bad idea. Eunseok doesn’t like when the smell lingers in his sheets. In his head, a voice that sounds like Sohee’s tells him duh. The thought tugs a smile out of him. He should text Sohee tomorrow, ask him to grab dinner or something this weekend. Maybe get a drink—
“Are you having them too?”
The question is such a non-sequitur to everything else that Eunseok doesn’t recognize it’s for him. It takes him a beat to process the words. Another to understand what they’re asking. One more to realize he doesn’t understand at all.
“What?”
“Nevermind.” The man drops his cigarette and stamps it out. He hurriedly shoves a hand into the pocket of his jacket and rummages around. As he withdraws a set of keys, something is caught between them.
A zippo clatters to the ground. The man freezes, his hand still halfway covered. Just below his wrist is an irregularly shaped burn, pink and cracked at its edges.
Eunseok gets caught staring this time. When he glances up to his face, the man looks away. He looks scared. His eyes are closed in a wince like he’s been struck.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. He taps his key fob against the door’s sensor and rushes back inside.
Eunseok crouches down to pick up the lighter. He stares at its engraved set of initials and starts making his guesses.
/
In the morning, after Sungchan has woken up, Eunseok brews them a pot of coffee. He adds a spoonful of sugar into Sungchan's mug before sliding it over to him past his haphazard work set-up.
"Are you gonna work from home again?" Sungchan asks. His features scrunch up when he takes a sip. "I'm getting more sugar."
Eunseok nods to both things, although he knows Sungchan will regret the latter.
The sound of metal scraping against the side of the sugar jar grates on his ears. Sungchan starts noisily stirring his spoon around his mug with no regard for the wellbeing of Eunseok's increasingly fragile patience.
"Is working from home a permanent thing?"
"No," Eunseok says with a vehement shake of his head. “Just for a little while. I’ll have to go back eventually.”
Sungchan clangs his spoon against the rim. Maybe he does know what he's doing. "Okay."
"Stop worrying,” Eunseok says, only putting up enough fight in his voice to be petty. “I’m fine.”
Sungchan sniffs indignantly. "I’m not worrying. I have better things to worry about than you." He takes another sip of coffee and immediately spits it out into his sink.
/
Sungchan leaves with a piece of poorly buttered toast in his mouth soon afterward. Heads to work like nothing happened.
His only acknowledgement: "Don't coop yourself up for too long, yeah?" A concerned tilt of his head. No overstepping because Sungchan knows it’d bother Eunseok otherwise. At least it usually would.
Work is terrible. Eunseok can't focus for shit. His work chat pings every once in a while and reminds him what he’s supposed to be doing but remind is all they do. Instead, he keeps two tabs open on city news sites and refreshes them constantly.
Neither of them yield any relevant results. He's willing to admit the subway incident might not be pertinent to the local reporters, but the car accident has to be, right?
He switches to search engines. Scours the most recent pages. Tries every combination of words on social media. Nothing.
Eunseok considers calling Sungchan just to confirm that it wasn’t a sleep-deprived figment of his imagination. But the confirmation wouldn’t substantiate what really haunts him: the pale, faraway stare. The fading smile. The relief.
His phone buzzes too many consecutive times to ignore. It’s Sohee, first agreeing to their plans and then telling him to check Teams, reply to an email, and also are you doing ok? sungchan told me about last night. do you need me to come over after work?
Eunseok says no. He’ll see him soon. Everything’s fine. He just needs one good night of sleep. Sohee reminds him to get some fresh air when he can. Eunseok says he’s getting plenty. (He omits the fact that it's limited to his balcony and concurrent to him sucking tar into his lungs.) Sohee seems to accept that.
Feeling guilty, Eunseok does what his friend asked. Manages to do a little bit of work and ignore the stiffness of his lower back in a chair that’s not meant to be sat in for so long. Then he’s back to the periodical reloading of all the pages. Wondering what secret the world is keeping from him.
There’s the lighter too, which he placed next to him after Sungchan had left. Just having it near him is a strange consolation. He continues thinking. There was something else to the man’s face. Another thing Eunseok recognized.
When he realizes it, he reaches out to the lighter. Flicks it open in his grasp to check. When he presses his thumb against the flint wheel, the flame appears easily. It’s a cold shade of blue.
/
The hours until nightfall are spent in agitation and waiting. Eunseok tries—tries—to nap on his couch but even squeezing his eyes closed is an arduous task. He gives up, eats a pathetic dinner of dry toast, and paces around his living room until he’s sure he’s created a circular trench in his floorboards.
He goes outside because he can’t take it anymore. Because his forearms tremble when he closes his hands into fists. Because he’s craving air that’s not the stagnant kind trapped in his apartment. (He kept his windows closed again this morning.)
The light by the back door is flickering particularly obnoxiously. It goads him to go back inside and realize this is not a good idea. But Eunseok stays put. Smokes just to have something to do while pretending he isn’t addicted again. He doesn’t think he is, anyway. He keeps thinking about something else.
His pack is half-empty when the door opens again. The man steps out, recognizable at first by his stooping frame. The way his head jerks at a passing breeze. Eunseok wants to introduce him to a warmer coat. When they make eye contact, the man’s face betrays no emotion about seeing him again.
In the brief ray of light through the open door, Eunseok gets a better look at him. His dark circles seem even worse than last night. He has an unlit cigarette in his mouth, one of his hands searching through the pockets of his jacket.
Wordlessly, Eunseok holds out the zippo. It’s then that the man seems to really notice that Eunseok is there. He raises his brows—first at his presence, then upon realizing what’s being given to him.
The man turns the lighter over in his hand. Stares at the engraving as if to verify it's really his. He lights his cigarette and peers at Eunseok expectantly. Maybe prodding him to say something. Maybe anticipating a question. But he breaks first.
“What’s your name?”
“It's Eunseok.”
"Okay. Thank you, Eunseok.”
“And your name?”
“It’s Wonbin.”
“So, um. Are you usually up this late?” Eunseok's insides curl as he asks. The question sounds horribly awkward to his ears, unnatural in his voice that’s never used for small talk.
But Wonbin doesn’t chastise him for it. “Yeah.”
“Insomnia?”
Wonbin shrugs. “Something like that."
A silence follows that Eunseok wishes he had the aptitude to fill. Something that one of his friends would say to disarm the unease and get them to move on.
“And you? What are you doing out here?” Wonbin asks as he ashes his cigarette.
“I thought you’d want your lighter back.” This is already more than Eunseok would usually say. But even with his main objective fulfilled, he’s reluctant to let the interaction end. “It’s personalized and all.”
Wonbin nods. “It is. My best friend gave it to me.”
“That’s nice. My best friend hates that I smoke.” Present tense without thinking. Eunseok guesses he’s a present tense smoker again. God damn it.
“He doesn’t like it either. But—I dunno. I guess he thought I could use it for candles if I ever quit.”
“That’s a good friend.”
“Yeah. Taro's always been good.” On the final word, Wonbin’s voice wobbles.
Eunseok can see something give way in his face. The contemplation of something tender. A wound yet to scab over. He wants to prod at it if only to find out how it aches.
Wonbin doesn’t let him. “And you—Are you always up this late?”
“No. But this week’s been bad,” Eunseok answers. In the pockets of his coat, his fingers clench around his own lighter. His nails dig into his palm.
“What happened?” The corner of Wonbin’s lips twitch, revealing something still tightly wrapped. Eunseok is apprehensive of peeling it back any further.
“It’s fucked up.”
“Your warning is noted,” Wonbin says. His expression reverts to being unreadable. Eunseok yearns to see it waver.
“I saw two people die in the last week. The first one was just random, like a heart attack or something. But the second—the guy just walked into traffic. He didn’t even hesitate. They were both just right in front of me.” Eunseok pauses for a breath that exits more shakily than it enters. “I felt so helpless. I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t know what to do.”
Wonbin doesn’t speak for a long time. He keeps examining Eunseok’s face. Maybe looking for something he recognizes too.
“It wasn’t your fault. You probably know that but you should remember it,” Wonbin says in a level tone. Not entirely devoid of empathy in its softness but it keeps them a respectable distance apart. Maybe Eunseok’s sadness is catching.
“I wanted to do something. I wish I could have but it’s like they were both just—gone before I could do anything. I know it doesn’t make any sense.”
“It doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean you should feel bad for thinking it. What could you have done, anyway?”
“His eyes were grey,” Eunseok says. “Both of them, actually.”
Wonbin studies Eunseok carefully. His scrutiny makes Eunseok feel like he must be going mad. Maybe he is. Maybe this is just a dreamlike manifestation of his guilt hovering over him in a fitful night of half-sleep.
“Do you want a cup of tea?”
“What?”
“Tea,” Wonbin says again, drawing up his shoulders and straightening his spine. Even at his full height, he seems too small in his body. He takes one final drag. “I live on the first floor.”
The words circle around the last of his smoke. Eunseok waits for it to clear before he agrees.
/
Wonbin is quiet in their brief walk to his apartment but keeps looking over his shoulder to check that Eunseok is still there. It makes Eunseok want to reach out and touch him if only to reassure him that he is.
The overhead light is already on when they enter, casting his home in a harsh white cast. It’s bigger than Eunseok’s apartment but the layout is similar. A counter splits the main room into an open kitchen and small living room.
Eunseok wants to describe it as clean but that doesn’t seem accurate. It’s sparse, with a lack of personal items. Minimal furniture and decoration. In the living room, there’s a couch without any cushions or blankets. No books or clothing or accessories scattered across flat surfaces. Everything feels nondescript. As though someone moved in but never began living.
“I’ll heat the water,” Wonbin says in a mumble. Even in his own home, he doesn’t seem any more at ease. He continues glancing at Eunseok like he expects him to run away. What would he do if Eunseok tried?
“Okay,” Eunseok answers with a levelled uncertainty. He weighs the possibilities. He’s in an extension of his own home. He doesn’t feel in danger. He thinks Wonbin needs someone. To listen or be here. He might need that too.
Wonbin nods and slinks off to the kitchen’s side of the counter. There’s a steel kettle on the stove, acting as the first proof of a specific life. Eunseok stalls awkwardly by a pair of chairs until he decides it’s not an impertinence to sit in one of them.
A single photo is up on the centre of the fridge. It’s of Wonbin, looking considerably brighter and devoid of weariness. A man of a similar height has an arm slung around his shoulder. They’re both smiling, neither of them looking at the camera but at each other instead.
Wonbin yawns. Eunseok does too. The kettle emits a low whistle.
Eunseok pushes out the other chair to stand perpendicular to his own. When Wonbin sets down the two heavy-bottomed mugs onto the counter, they create a loud clatter that makes him flinch. Eunseok pretends not to notice and accepts the closer cup with both hands.
The warmth of the cup is a relief against his freezing palms. Eunseok takes a long sip and waits for the heat to flood through the rest of his body. Wonbin’s hands stay where they are resting on the counter.
“It’s barley,” Wonbin says. “It’s all we have.”
"You have a roommate?"
Eunseok watches Wonbin’s shoulders tense at the question, collarbones drawing up closer to his face. They look even more pallid under the hard lights. "He’s been away. So it’s just me.”
“How long has he been away?”
“I don’t remember,” Wonbin answers too quickly. “A while.”
“Is he coming back soon?”
Wonbin falls silent. Eunseok can’t tell whether he heard the question at all. He’s elsewhere. His eyes glazed over, looking across the room. Either staring at nothing at all or something that Eunseok can’t. Rapidly blinking as though he’s trying to keep his eyes from falling out of their sockets.
Eunseok wants to ask whether the apartment always looks so desolate. Whether Wonbin spends any time here at all. But then a glaring question forms in his head.
Eunseok says his name. Repeats it twice before he finally catches his attention again.
“Yeah?” Wonbin’s brows draw together when he looks back at him, the concentration exerting too much of his strength.
“Last night. You asked me if I was having them too. What did that mean?”
The flutter of Wonbin’s eyelids slows into one, long motion. He’s back in the room and his body and his gaze is tracing out the shape of Eunseok’s skull behind his skin. Searching for something that Eunseok thought that they already saw in each other.
Wonbin doesn’t find it. “It was nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But you believe in something. What are they?”
It’s too far. Wonbin’s gone again. Eunseok feels desperate. He wants to shake him. Grip him by the shoulders until they bruise. Shout at him until he stays.
Eunseok says his name again.
“Stop it. You can’t.” Wonbin’s lip quivers. “I can’t tell you.”
“Then why talk to me at all?”
“I thought you knew, okay? Do you want me to just admit that I’m lonely?”
Wonbin is suffering at the other end of the counter and Eunseok can’t do a thing to help him. He never could. The longer he remains the more miasmic the air feels. Eventually he won’t be able to see a thing.
“It’s getting late,” Eunseok says pointlessly.
The statement miraculously gets to Wonbin. “It was always late.”
“I’ll go.” Eunseok pushes his half-empty mug away from him. “Let you try to sleep a little bit, at least.”
In a small, wobbly voice, Wonbin admits it. “I can’t sleep.”
“You can’t?” Eunseok asks quietly. “You can’t or you don’t want to?”
Wonbin puts his head in the cradle of his trembling hands. “I don’t want to sleep. If I do then—I don’t know. I’m scared. I just can’t.” His words start to slide together in a hopeless slur.
“You need to sleep. You’ll die like this.”
When Wonbin looks up again, his eyes are shiny and filled with dread. "Fuck, I can't."
“Do you want me here?” Eunseok shakes out the image of flashing sirens from the back of his mind. He reaches for one of Wonbin’s hands instead. It’s still cold.
“I don’t know what I want from you,” Wonbin whispers.
“I’m just here. Okay? Do you want me to stay?”
Wonbin nods, slow and careful. “Sleep in Taro’s bed. He wouldn’t mind.”
/
Wonbin’s roommate must have been away for longer than he let on. Eunseok pushes open one of the windows, which yields with an agitated squeak. The air in the room is stale, as is the scent of the blankets on the neatly made bed.
But it’s enough to know there’s someone else metres away. Someone who might be like him. Carrying something that they can’t yet say aloud. It’s enough to let Eunseok’s body try to relax into the rigid mattress.
A pained groan shakes Eunseok from his short-lived sleep. It's quickly followed by another, like the yowl of a wounded animal. He gets out of the bed and hurries to the other room that he saw Wonbin enter after bidding each other goodnight.
"Wonbin?" Eunseok whispers, fingers curled around the cracked door frame.
Orange street lamps filter light through the cracked slats in the blinds. It’s enough to illuminate the barest silhouette of Wonbin in his bed. His body is twisted uncomfortably into the mattress, limbs curling and spine unable to lay flat.
Eunseok enters the room, grabbing at the walls around him until he finds the stem of a floor lamp. After he switches it on, he sees the full extent of Wonbin in agony. His forehead is covered in sweat. The blanket has been kicked away, rolled into a useless heap at the foot of his bed. Wonbin makes another sound, closer to a whimper this time. Weaker than before.
"Wonbin, wake up." Eunseok presses his hands into Wonbin’s burning shoulders. His body twitches away from his grasp. Eunseok reaches for him again and shakes him harder. "Wake up, please.”
Wonbin’s eyelids open, revealing only the whites of his eyes. Helplessness starting to seize him, Eunseok slaps Wonbin and pleads harder. Following a broken cry, Wonbin regains consciousness.
His corneas are grey.
Eunseok staggers backward with a gasp. He stops only once his head hits the wall. As Wonbin sucks air back into his pining lungs, darkness floods the centre of his eyes once more.
He sits up halfway in a daze and holds his flushed face in his hands. It takes him several moments to notice that Eunseok is there, tightly clutching his chest.
"Are you okay?" Wonbin asks.
The absurdity of the question coming from him nearly elicits a laugh from Eunseok. The sound is dubious and half-caught in his throat. He swallows it down.
“You—You were—” Eunseok approaches him slowly. Swallows down his own fear to force himself closer to Wonbin’s, which sinks to far worse depths than he could have ever predicted.
“It was a bad dream,” Wonbin whispers. On the left arm of his shirt, something dark starts to seep through the white fabric.
Eunseok takes another careful step forward to gingerly raise the sleeve. Beneath it, a gash too wide and deep to have been self-inflicted.
“What happened?” he asks incredulously.
Wonbin shakes his head. “Bad dream,” he repeats with less conviction.
Eunseok tugs at the lower hem of his shirt. Wonbin raises his arms and lets it be taken off of him. His tired obedience is that of a feverish child, resigning himself to the whims of his guardian.
There are more injuries spread across Wonbin’s chest and arms. Most are scratches or small cuts, healed over or scabbing. Eunseok picks up Wonbin’s wrists and examines his short-trimmed nails. His hands are even more frigid than earlier. When he musters the will to look at Wonbin’s face, his eyes are blown wide with terror.
Eunseok can barely get out the first syllable of his name before Wonbin starts to cry. He slams his head into Eunseok’s chest, hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders. Digging his nails in and leaving anguished marks. Desperate to stay on the cliff edge.
Eunseok wraps his arms around him, runs his hands against the patches of raised skin on Wonbin’s back. He brushes his fingertips over the scar near his shoulder blade, stark and startlingly white. Wonbin’s sobs are short and exit in shivers. They make Eunseok feel paralyzed by his ineptitude.
Something inside of Wonbin splits open. Eunseok hears it fall apart in his broken voice.
“Please. I don’t know what to do. I’m alone out there.”
Eunseok hates to hear him beg. Doesn’t need him to. He wants to tell him so when Wonbin lifts his head again. The skin beneath his eyes is bruised with dread and depletion. The lack of rest is making him rot.
“Eunseok, I’m so scared.”
His own name sounds so wretched from Wonbin’s cracking throat. It’s unbelievable held to Wonbin himself, still beautiful with his marred skin and shaking breaths.
“Don’t leave me alone. Please.”
“I won’t,” Eunseok whispers. “I won’t leave you.”
“Do you promise?” When Wonbin asks, it feels like the first time he’s really here. Entirely lucid and speaking to Eunseok. The question held out to carve out the explicit desire in both their hearts.
“Yes. I promise.”
The corners of Wonbin’s lips stretch outward but it’s not quite a smile. Eunseok ignores the trepidation that plunges into his chest. He can’t take it back.
“Stay with me,” Wonbin says.
He pulls Eunseok closer. Presses their mouths together. It’s too forlorn to feel like a kiss but Eunseok closes his eyes anyway. He imagines Wonbin turning into a pillar of salt and holds him tighter. Something rumbles between their chests.
Eunseok can feel each one of Wonbin’s heartbeats against his own. Fast and unforgiving. Their pulses chasing after each other.
/
Something strong pulls Eunseok into the dark. He’s surrounded by trees. The full moon acts as his only source of light. When he stares up at it, he’s confused at its colour: a strange off-white. Almost grey. Beneath his feet, the dirt floor is tangled with far-reaching roots and yellowing grass. The dying colours of the forest provide no comfort.
From somewhere closeby, he hears frantic footfalls. Something is coming. Eunseok starts to run.
The trees crowd his path. They close in on him. Branches scratch and scrape his limbs. They reach out with their own intentions and try to trap him. He struggles to retreat from their grasp around his wrists and ankles. Something sharp strikes his cheek.
A root coils past his foot and trips him. He lands on his arms, which hit the ground with an unpleasant smack. His bare skin burns against the dirt. Tears sting his straining eyes as he hurries to his feet.
He keeps running but everything ahead looks the same as before. Other voices cry out, far away and doomed. If he tries to focus his hearing, he can listen in on their desperation and the sound of snapping bones. He stops trying.
Then, he sees a figure. Another body fleeing from whatever is coming after them. Eunseok calls out to it, already knows its name before he realizes he’s saying it.
Wonbin looks back at him. He slows down enough for Eunseok to catch up.
“You’re bleeding,” he says in a pant. The wound on his left shoulder is still running red.
Eunseok wipes the side of his face with his sleeve. It comes back stained along the entire cuff. The pain is only outdone by the exhaustion cascading over his body.
Behind him, he hears something heavy collapse. Another scream.
Wonbin touches his elbow before Eunseok can turn around. He shakes his head.
“Come on.”
Eunseok follows.
/
When he first opens his eyes, Eunseok’s vision is cloudy. His hands reach out to his sides, seeking out anything familiar. None of it feels right. When the colour returns to his surroundings, Wonbin is already awake. He’s pressing a hand into Eunseok’s swollen cheek.
“Did you know?” Eunseok asks. His cracking voice sounds foreign to his own ears.
Wonbin’s mouth twists into a horrible smile, unlike anything Eunseok’s seen on him before.
Despair creeping into his weary voice, Eunseok asks again. “Wonbin. Did you know?”
Wonbin doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts to laugh. A strained, ugly sound that doesn’t carry enough breath. Nearly a wheeze before it starts to become hysterical.
His cold hand is almost soothing against Eunseok’s burning face. “Why?”
Wonbin’s eyes are bright with tears. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone.” He’s still smiling.
Eunseok’s sight shakes. The grey moon looms in the back of his mind.
“Now I won’t be.”
Wonbin kisses him. Eunseok can taste the blood on his split lip. When he closes his eyes, he’s almost back. He can hear the sound of rustling trees. A horrible wail in the distance. Another set of footsteps running next to his. Something is gaining on them.
It’ll never let him go.