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The soft pitter-patter of the rain came to be Seungkwan's best friend, countless nights that have been spent under the cover of it all, yet it never bore him.
For, why would it? It was cold, yet his body provided warmth. It was many, and he was one. He always had someone to talk to, as long as there was rain, who'd listen so patiently, you'd think it wasn't even there. And then it'd pop up again, during your silence— to reply, some flatter or the other, and god, when it replied, was it fun.
The rain never allowed a second of silence— filling the gap beside him with a splash of droplets, and Seungkwan thanked the gods, every single day that it didn't, because if it did, he'd start thinking, and if he started thinking— well, he's thinking now, too.
If he had to be honest, he was rather never this fond of the rain before. In fact, he hadn't even noticed it, most of the time, and had found it a nuisance — something he very much laughs over about now.
There had been someone- indeed, someone Seungkwan had held a deep affinity with, cared about with his whole heart.
Now.. love, if you could say.
He laughed, quickly drowned by the deafening noise of water hitting the ground, flying all around, cold, and Seungkwan couldn't help but shiver, and it was as if the rain was trying to wash the sadness off his face.
Or maybe, the rain was sad, too. A deep, forever sadness in his heart— much like Seungkwan, over things that they could've saved, if they had just.. tried. But they hadn't, and that was the reason Seungkwan still thought about that boy, nine years after he had last seen him.
He— he was a young boy, back then. Small and chubby, the type you'd love to have as a younger brother as a child, or someone you'd want to be friends with all throughout middle school, but couldn't talk to, because you were afraid.
..and Seungkwan hated that so much. Because, thanks to that, Seungkwan saw him as exactly that— and- and he failed to see beyond that image of that boy he'd conjured up so long ago, he failed to see that he was so, so much sweeter, so much more fun, so much more than that.
Everything started when he asked Seungkwan to be friends, just as the bidding day of pre-school had ended, and he had been elated that that boy had even known his name.
He never realized, he never even cared to notice the shy glances, the widened smile whenever he spotted Seungkwan across a crowd, and fuck, he'd throw away everything just for another try.
How he always initiated the first touch, knowing well Seungkwan hated physical affection, and him, being stupid, told that boy that he was the only one he felt okay with touching him, and god, and god—
..and god.
And all along, Seungkwan was so clueless — so clueless, as to the fact that he would stand here, twenty years later under the rain, crying about something that could've been.
He looked around himself, and his eyes met a familiar bench— one now drenched in dirt and plants now foreign, and with a shut of his eyes it took him back to that night, which seemed so vivid he was convinced it had happened just yesterday.
He watched two figures slowly approach him from afar, and as if they could see him, he moved a bit to the side of the bench, leaving perfect space for the boy who soon sat next to him, desperately holding onto an umbrella, and next to him, was another boy, and Seungkwan couldn't quite see his face, yet his laugh echoed through the street and that was enough to break his facade to the rain.
He couldn't help it, and the choked sob leaving his tight-lipped mouth said everything for him, yet he watched the scene with unwavering eyes, and if he'd missed even one second, he'd regret it forever.
He knew well the two boys couldn't see him on that bench— for they were in their own little world, warm laughter breaking out through the harsher rain as one of them threw away the other's umbrella. Immediate protests followed the exchange, and for a second, Seungkwan felt okay, and all he had to do was watch.
The boy who threw the umbrella jumped off the bench with a splash, a fond yet annoyed yell escaping the one sitting next to Seungkwan. Both their faces were coated in a blurry vision, keeping him from seeing them, yet it was obvious who they were from the clothes they wore, the way they acted.
It was painfully obvious. And it killed him how similar that boy in the past and him now were.
Suddenly, through Seungkwan's shaky line of thought, the boy next to him disappeared. And a glance ahead told him so did the one who got up.
An immediate rush of panic flooded his body, and he looked around, not caring if the rain got into his eye, they were gone.
And then, just as quick as they disappeared — the raindrops in front of him joined to make a person. Their face was clear now— just as clear as the droplets which formed them, and you couldn't see them, but you could see their face, and that shoved the truth that Seungkwan had been avoiding for far too long in his face.
A young, neat-looking boy. And a smile as bright as the moonshine meeting the drops of water on the floor.
He extended a hand towards Seungkwan, and he knew he couldn't handle experiencing that moment again, but he gave his hand anyway. His arm met the wet figure of rain, and suddenly, the boy became real.
Soft, blond hair appeared where there was no color, bright, lifelike eyes signified his youth, staring deep into Seungkwan's, and he felt as if he wanted to cry.
The rain didn't affect the boy at all— if nothing, it made his existence all the more real. He gently placed his arm around Seungkwan's waist, his other hand tightly intertwined with his.
Letting go of his hand with a giggle, the boy spun him around.
And just like that, he forgot the reason why he didn't want this to happen in the first place.
His laughter was contagious— and the loud rain still rung throughout Seungkwan's ears, desperately trying to remind him that this wasn't real, but he ignored it all, getting lost in the moment with the boy, whose eyes shone so bright whenever Seungkwan smiled, and he twirled him around again, and he spun again.
Again and again, the same cycle presented itself to Seungkwan. Not once did he even start to imagine the extents of how this would affect him. If this was the last time he saw him, even for a while — so be it.
Something that he would've noticed, if he hadn't been so into his euphoria, would be the boy's smile slowly diminishing.
It wasn't spontaneous — slow, but you could see it if you wanted. The pace increased for the spins, and Seungkwan started to get dizzy. He paid no mind, however, and let the boy do whatever he pleased.
He had no reason not to, for that was his life.
Seeing that boy again and again. Thinking about it again and again. Imagining what could've happened was the only constant in his life by now.
Seungkwan's vision had blurred to an extent he couldn't envisage. He now lay in the tight grip of the blond's hands, and a worried expression coated his face. And it hit him then, his hands were much younger than they were a second ago. No.
The boy's face disappeared. All that remained was his mouth, and his voice broke through the heavy noise of the rain.
"Seungkwan hyung."
..no.
He attempted to stop the boy from speaking, yet his hands just wouldn't move. His lips were glued together.
"I like you."
And all the abnormalities faded, his eyes came back to life, a tiny hint of nervousness glinting through — a small tug of mischief lingering on his lips, and then, a harsh pull away.
It wasn't the boy.
"You're kidding, right?"
He heard his own voice cut through his skin.
And looking at the other boy, he felt the same too.
"Why would I be kidding?"
He knew what was happening next. He has to stop himself. He had to. He had to.
..and deep inside, he knew that he couldn't.
"Have I ever hinted at the fact that I liked you, Chan? What made you come to the conclusion of liking me?"
He felt his lips curve harshly downwards, and the light fell from the other boy's eyes.
The last thing he heard from him was,
"I'm sorry."
Seungkwan immediately pulled himself together, reaching out for the boy who had just turned behind to leave, and just as his hand touched his fluffy, light hair—
..cold.
A cold, wet— and harsh splash of water met his palm. And the once-figure sank into the floor. All that remained of him, was a puddle on the floor.
And Seungkwan couldn't help but wonder if those were the tears Chan cried that night.
"Must be, eh?"
He looked at the puddle with a bitter smile, washing the remains of the figure on his face, and he noticed his arms are back to normal.
They're no longer fair, but for the pale that settles after being surrounded by water for far too long, nor are they young. And they look crippled with the coming of old age. Ironic for a 26 year old, huh?
He kicked that puddle with his boot, and Seungkwan could practically hear the whine in Chan's voice complaining for kicking him.
Just then, he heard a set of footsteps walk hurriedly towards him, and he turned around to find a coated figure struggling to open an umbrella as he walked.
After watching him not notice Seungkwan for a while, he walked towards him and croaked out. "Need some help there?"
He cringed at how his own voice came out, seriously, how long was it since he talked to people?
The man ignored him and kept on walking, Seungkwan just following along considering this guy kept up a horribly slow pace.
Noticing the weirdo who didn't even have an umbrella wasn't going away anytime soon, the guy said with an annoying tone,
"I can do it myself, okay??"
"Uh, no you can't. Not if you keep walking while trying to open it anyway,"
Seungkwan started smartly, and he could've fooled himself with his own logic if it weren't for the guy finally lashing out.
"..can you just leave me alone, you weirdo?!"
The guy abruptly stopped and faced him, and even though it was raining, even though half his face was covered by his bangs sticking to his face, Seungkwan could've recognized that loud voice anywhere.
And his face— oh god, his face. Chocolate eyes, dark sunglasses placed delicately on the rim of his nose, and a slightly sharper jawline— except for that, everything remained the same.
And staring more, completely justifying to the other that he was, in fact, a weirdo, he freaked out. He hadn't changed one bit.
The boy readjusted his sunglasses to see the 'weirdo' better, and Seungkwan knew he didn't recognize him, for he just cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Got a problem, old man?"
He asked, tone neutralizing, and Seungkwan almost changed his mind and thought Chan actually recognized him— but he brushed it off, because.. he was like that to everyone.
"Man, I just wanted to open your umbrella for you. But now you're here insulting my age and getting drenched in the rain, so I guess you have fun my little boy."
Seungkwan rolled his eyes like how he used to back then, making sure to have used a lower pitch in his voice so the other wouldn't recognize him. He turned to walk away; a signature trick that he knew would make Chan call him back to ask for help.
And when he felt a tug at the shoulder of his coat sleeve, he just knew Chan hadn't changed one bit in all these years.
"Wait- come back, help me please."
And when he turned back, he could've sworn he saw something flash in the latter's eyes, muttering something Seungkwan couldn't hear.
He swiftly took the umbrella from his outstretched arm, clicking it open first try.
A wide smile spread across Chan's face, and Seungkwan smiled back with twice the fervour, filling that blank of a mutter he had heard from Chan in his mind—
Y ou haven't changed all these years either, Seungkwan.