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Wonwoo is a man of routine. He follows it like a rulebook. Wake up at 7:30, get ready for work, always in a black suit and tie, ‘Like you’re going to a funeral, ’ he heard a voice in his head, like he had heard it only yesterday, like he’d hear it again any time soon. But when he whipped his eyes across the bedroom, he was greeted with nothing but silence. Sighing, he took one last look in the mirror (ignoring the dark circles, the obvious discolouration of his face, the emptiness in his eyes), and walked off to the kitchen. He’s not a great cook, but he thinks he can get by with an omelette and some oatmeal. So that’s his breakfast almost every single day; boring, just like him.
Then, he walks to the subway to grab an 8:45 tube, which would drop him straight to work, where he would spend most of the day, returning home at dusk, whipping up some tasteless dinner, and lying in his bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling until sleep would take mercy on him and sweep him away.
It’s been like that for the last four months. Months where he tried to pick himself up multiple times, only to shatter into pieces again whenever the past slipped through the cracks of his carefully constricted routine. It would at times come in whims, sometimes with full force, but no matter how small or big, it would leave Wonwoo breathless, breaking down, just like he was right now.
His day started like any other. He was waiting at the subway, reading messages from the group chat, ignoring the ones directed at him. He likes to be in the loop, but engaging, participating, and pretending take too much energy; the energy that he is using up to live through day by day, to breathe, to exist.
When the train arrived with a gust of wind, he kept the phone in his pocket and raised his eyes, and froze when he saw it.
The green hair!
A flash of it amidst the crowd inside the train. It disappeared so fast, he wondered if he had imagined it. The green hair he hadn’t seen since he stood on the bathroom floor, dyeing it himself only four months ago.
It was like the world was spinning around him. Memories he had dug deep in the back of his head played in front of his eyes all at once. He couldn’t breathe, not when his desperate eyes kept searching for the green hair in the sea of people, feeling the loss all over again when he couldn’t find it.
Four months of following a strict regimen, of meals he never missed, of work he never abandoned, of a life he never stopped living, all that effort felt pointless with a single reminder of the past.
The train door chimed, and just like that, he had missed his train.
It wasn’t that Wonwoo was a strict man of routine, but that he needed routine to survive. Because without it, he would have nothing left, just an empty house, a cupboard full of clothes he would never touch again, and drawers emptied one night in a fit of rage.
Sure, he always wakes at 7:30, right at the first bell of the alarm. But, before he is wide awake, before memory kicks in, before reality hits, he rolls over with a habitual smile and a hand ready to pull in, to feel warmth, but what he meets is a cold, creaseless bedsheet. He then pulls his hand back, groaning into the pillow and picks himself up to throw into a cold, awakening shower. It helps flush down the flood of dread.
In front of the mirror, when he knots his tie, he hears a ghost of a giggle, ‘Today, you look like a villainised CEO.’ Sometimes, when he’d put on his black blazer, he would hear, ‘Just like a mafia lord.’ The comments that once put a smile on his face every morning now prick at his heart like tiny needles.
When he’d find himself searching in the mirror for a familiar hand on his waist and a nudge of a chin on his shoulder, he’d tighten the tie a little too hard on purpose, choking on it. The pressure helps him stay grounded and prevents the memories from spilling over.
He tells himself he makes omelettes every day because they are easy. But the truth is that trying to make anything more complicated reminds him of the aroma that used to fill his apartment every mealtime; the blue apron, the tank top, the elaborate dinners, the laughter…so many memories in this kitchen.
Haunted by the eerie silence around him, he’d flip the egg, grab an orange and sit down at the table, scrolling through reels, and forcing the steaming hot, wrongly flipped, broken omelette into his mouth. The burn would take away the pain in his chest.
On the walk to the subway, he would put his earphones in. It’s almost impossible for him to go anywhere without them. The blasting music drowns the hustle and bustle around him—the shared chatter, the entwined hands, the smiles exchanged, and the togetherness the world shares, all reminders of how once he had all that, and how alone he is now.
He chokes when he passes the ice cream shop he used to visit every Sunday, the crosswalk he once crossed with hands entwined with another, and the flower shop he had to visit often after every fight; there were too many memories he couldn’t escape, but he would try.
He had the same routine four months ago, but now everything feels like a trigger. It’s simply a reminder of what life looked like when Mingyu was a part of it.
By the time he reached work, he was drenched in sweat, hurling the cab right in front of his office building, running up the stairs because the lift had a long queue. When he reached his table, Joshua stared at him like he had developed a second head, taking in his dishevelled state. “You’re late,” he baulked.
“Yeah, I missed the train.” Wonwoo huffed, taking sips of water and dabbing at his sweat.
“You? Missed your train? Impossible.” Joshua raised his eyes. He looked around. Everyone around them was already drowned in work, eyes on their computers, paying no attention to anything except their own cubicles. “Is everything okay?” He asked quietly, concerned.
Wonwoo’s eyes filled with the flash of green hair, the spinning subway floor, the palpitations…
“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s as usual.” He pushed it all down and tried to smile, but couldn’t say he was fine, because he wasn’t. He couldn’t lie to the only person he hadn’t pushed away from his life yet.
To say that Joshua was his work colleague would be an insult to their friendship. Joshua is the friend everyone deserves in their life. He is kind, perceptive and caring: all the qualities Wonwoo once admired him for, have now started to suffocate him. Because Joshua always looks at him with worry, like he is fragile and would break apart at any moment, and he hates how right he is.
“Wonwoo…” Joshua began, but must have realised Wonwoo didn’t want to speak further, and shook his head. “You ready for the presentation?”
Wonwoo was grateful Joshua didn’t ask him any more questions. He was glad he didn’t press, didn't force him to socialise and gave him the space he needed. But, he spoke too soon, because that only lasted for two weeks.
“Today’s Friday night. Don’t just sulk in your room all gloomy and alone. Join Hoshi and me at the bar. We can also invite Seokmin.” The way Joshua blushed, Wonwoo understood why he wanted to invite him.
But Seokmin was too close to the wound, too close to the cracks forming up in Wonwoo’s heart.
“No!” He blurted immediately. “I have something else.”
Wonwoo lied, but Joshua was to blame. He was pushing him into a corner, and he needed an escape. His weekend plans are simple. He lets himself fall apart, living like a ghost without his routine, without the distraction of work. He lies in his bed, wrapped in the silence of his house, the lack of presence and touch, the overwhelming pain. Why does he do that? So that he doesn’t forget. His biggest fear is that one day he will forget the sound of that laughter,
“Liar.” Joshua huffed. “I know for sure you will inhale an entire tub of ice cream overnight and wallow. I am not taking no for an answer. We will come to pick you up at eight.” Then his eyes softened. “If you want, I won’t invite Seokmin.”
Wonwoo finally looked up at him. Seeing Joshua try so hard to cheer him every day, to be supportive, to show him how much he is loved, he was starting to realise he was being unfair towards the people who care about him. When was the last time he checked on them? When was the last time he hung out with his friends? When was the last time he called his parents?
The absence of one person from your life shouldn’t be the end of the world. It’s so easy to say, but so hard to follow.
“Fine.” Wonwoo sighed. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it. You guys can invite anyone you want. I don’t mind.”
He did, in fact, mind, but he needed to get over himself. He needed to face reality. It wasn’t the end of the world. Yet, he was pacing in his room, almost ready an hour earlier, trying to shake the jitters. He shouldn’t be this nervous to go to a bar with his friends. An activity he once loved. But it felt like a different lifetime, another dimension, another Wonwoo.
He was surprised when he heard the bell ring. Joshua and Hoshi stood outside awkwardly. They didn’t need to show up; they could have just called him downstairs, but the way Joshua glanced across his dim apartment, at the nameplate that still said ‘Uri Jib’, he knew why.
“What a surprise, you look alive.” Joshua joked to hide the fact that he was literally snooping around.
Wonwoo grabbed his black coat and gave him a dramatic twirl with a roll of his eyes. He had put a lot of effort into his outfit, had his hair slicked back, and even applied some makeup, hoping it would hide just how tired he looked.
“Ready for your comeback?” Hoshi wrapped an arm around him, and finally, they were moving towards his car. Hoshi volunteered to drive, and the other two squeezed into the backseat.
“Am I your driver or something? One of you, come join me in the front seat.” Hoshi complained, but they didn’t budge, falling into laughter when he sulked about it all the way to the bar. It had been so long since Wonwoo had smiled so genuinely, he thought he wouldn't know how to.
Once Joshua noticed that he was in a good mood, he slipped up to him quietly, “Seokmin will join us at the bar. They had a last-minute meeting in their department.”
Seokmin’s department, which was also Mingyu’s department. He nodded stiffly. “Good. I haven’t seen him in a while.” He’s avoided that department floor altogether, actually.
The bar was louder than he expected, or maybe he just wasn’t used to it anymore. Seokmin spotted them immediately, still dressed in his work attire. “Hey, guys.”
Wonwoo hugged him, “It’s nice to see you again.” He did miss him. Seokmin’s always been so easy to be around. Wonwoo used to enjoy his company, as he wouldn't have to talk much; Seokmin would do it for both of them. They became friends through Mingyu, but he also became someone precious to Wonwoo.
Wonwoo and Mingyu’s lives were so intertwined that they became the same. They worked with the same people, had the same friends, the same hanging spots, and lived in the same city.
“I missed you, hyung.” Seokmin smiled, almost awkwardly, like he was being careful, like he didn’t know how to act around Wonwoo.
It wasn’t new for Wonwoo. He’d become used to people walking on eggshells around him by now. He noticed Joshua sighing next to him, relieved that he was managing to hold it together. He also saw the buzz of excitement as he went to hug Seokmin. The pair, once attached to the hip, never left each other’s side.
They ordered drinks. Hoshi asked for his usual whiskey, Joshua asked for a fancy, fruity cocktail, and Seokmin and Wonwoo went for the straight tequila shots. If he was going to survive this night, Wonwoo needed to be drunk, drunk enough to numb all the pain.
The others fell into a comfortable chatter, mostly gossip from work. Wonwoo was just happy to be listening, to be a part of something after so long. The alcohol, the comfortable touches from his friends, and the harmless chats all made it bearable for the first time in a while.
The atmosphere was dim, with no wild lights and no loud music. There was less dancing and more chatting. People were assembled in small groups. The kind of setting people in their late 20s would enjoy, and perfect for Wonwoo.
He was too busy swirling his drink, laughing halfheartedly at some joke Hoshi had cracked, when someone walked past. It was just a stranger, with an unrecognisable laughter and face, but it was the scent that had Wonwoo choke on his drink, the burn of it not limited to just his throat but travelling through his entire body.
The scent. The same scent—woody, spicy and yet fruity with a hint of jasmine. The scent Wonwoo had inhaled every morning, pressed his face against, and drowned in his tears on some nights: Mingyu’s scent.
It hit him like a punch to the face. The music and chatter became muffled, voices drowning under the sound of his uneven breathing and rapidly beating heart. He pressed against it, in pain, in fear, in the hope of being able to breathe again.
Joshua noticed first. “Wonwoo? You okay?”
Wonwoo looked at him with blurry eyes and realised he was crying. “Shua hyung,” he wisped.
Someone was rubbing his back, probably Seokmin.
“C’mon, breathe.” Hoshi encouraged, his gaze panicked.
“I..I need to go.” Wonwoo could still smell the lingering scent. He had to get away; he had to leave the room.
Joshua walked him out, held his head while he threw up at the side of a wall, head pounding already. He leaned against it afterwards, loving the coldness on his scalp. “I’m sorry.” He said, shutting his eyes.
“Why?” Joshua asked, “You did nothing wrong.”
“I feel pathetic.”
“You haven’t allowed yourself to feel anything. I think you deserve to be a little pathetic.”
The next morning, Wonwoo woke up to a throbbing headache, the stench of vomit, and clothes drenched in sweat from the previous night. He had woken up from a nightmare, but he couldn’t remember it. Without his routine, he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, so he stared out of the window at the still dark sky. He must have fallen asleep again, but jolted up when he heard his name being called in a familiar voice from the staircase. He ran down, almost tripping over the pile of clothes he had thrown onto the floor the previous night in his drunk state.
But when he reached the staircase, it was empty. He looked into the kitchen, but it was just as quiet as it had been for the last four months. He also checked the balcony, but except for the abandoned bird nest, there was nothing there. He must have dreamt it, or had finally lost his mind enough to start hallucinating. The green hair, the perfume, the voice, maybe they were all games his own mind was playing on him.
The house was just as empty as it was the previous night when he walked in after hanging out with his friends, just as haunting, even if it wasn’t dark anymore. Heartbroken and tired, he fell on the sofa, eyes looking up at the chipped ceiling. He was meant to repair it, but could never find time for it. He should do it today; it will keep him busy and distracted for a while. Last weekend, he had changed all the taps by himself; the week before, it was the walls that needed a fresh coat of paint. He was trying to change the house bit by bit, discard the memories, make it unrecognisable enough for him not to feel the absence.
But it’s impossible not to feel it. How does one forget their soulmate? How does one live with half a heart? He never learned.
He was getting sick of it. No matter what Joshua said, he knew he was being pathetic. Counting days until he would be his old self again, until the whiff of that same perfume didn’t make him feel like dying, until the green hair on someone didn’t directly remind him of him. Until taking his name didn’t feel like a crime. But would that day ever come? Would it ever be possible?
Suddenly, anger filled up his chest cavity. It happens to him sometimes, and he lets it take over. It helps numb the pain, even if for a little while. He lets it make him do whatever it pleases, lets it possess him until he isn’t himself anymore.
He lets the anger direct him towards the door and brings the nameplate inside. He watches himself break it into pieces like he isn’t the one doing it, watches himself tear apart the oversized t-shirts and shirts he never touched once in the last four months, watches himself sob uncontrollably while breaking all the photo frames in his bedroom one by one, cursing.
“Mingyu, you asshole.” He cried and threw the small frame near his bedside table with a loud shatter.
“You fucking piece of shit.” Another frame gone, the biggest, hanging above their bed, falling onto the ground, the pieces flying everywhere.
“You liar. Loser. Swine.” He thought it would make him feel better, but as he sat on his bed, watching the floor a mess of glass and shreds of clothes, all he felt was guilt. He tries so hard to blame Mingyu, to make him the evil one, the villain, but he could never convince himself enough for the pain to subside.
Once the rage left his body, he was left with the same emptiness and a messy, broken house. Nothing ever changes.
He couldn’t continue like this anymore. He had promised himself he would wait exactly four months, trying to return to his old life, and if he couldn’t, if it were too much to bear, he would move away, leave the city forever and move back into his hometown. Maybe it was time. He had realised he was fighting a battle he could never win.
But he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to, that he would be just as pathetic there, that he was too broken to start over again.
Despite his initial fear, living in his hometown turned out to be much easier than living in the city. No one knew about his heartbreak, about his pathetic loneliness, about his cowardice. People in the village treated him as they normally would, rather than looking at him with pity. He’d spend most of the day helping around on the farm, feeding cattle, gathering and cutting wood, and accompanying his brother to the market. He’d be soaking with sweat by the time it was dark, having only enough strength to hop into a shower, eat his mother’s soul-touching food and crash in bed. The ache in his bones and manual labour prevented him from wallowing in his pain. And for now, it was enough.
‘I’ve applied for your leave. You have about a week. Then you have to come back to work.” Joshua told him over the phone.
Wonwoo had half a mind not to pick up his call, but it had been two days since he disappeared on him, and he didn’t want him to lodge a missing persons complaint. Joshua was very much capable of that.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Wonwoo sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll return yet.” It was a big statement to make. It was too sharp a turn to reverse from, but he couldn’t find the strength to go back to his old life, even if it was the life he had worked so hard to achieve.
“Then what are you planning to do? Stay in the village forever? Work at the farm?”
The way Joshua said it so condescendingly, he hit a nerve in Wonwoo. “What’s so bad with that? My brother does it too.”
“Your brother worked extremely hard to send you to the city and study.” Joshua reasoned. “Is that how you want to pay him back?”
Wonwoo owed his brother a lot, but did he owe him his entire life? Did he owe him to live a life he no longer desired? Would that make his brother happy? He knows his family enough to know the answer to that question. But he wouldn’t be able to explain that to Joshua without sounding pretentious and selfish.
“Joshua. I need some time. I needed to get away.” He begged, hoping he would understand at least that much.
“I know. That’s why I begged the boss to give you a leave after you left so abruptly. You deserve the right to make a choice, and you deserve to come back to your original life if that’s what you would end up wanting after all this.” Joshua sounded like he was trying his best to understand.
“Thank you,” Wonwoo said, because Joshua was trying to help in his own way, even if it wasn’t the help he needed. He is probably the only person who has consistently stayed by his side. He never gave up on him, looking after him no matter how badly Wonwo treated him.
“Just take care, okay,” Joshua said.
Wonwoo was so engrossed in his conversation on the phone that he didn’t notice his brother standing at the door, eyes unreadable. He’s always been just as stoic, hard to read, like Wonwoo.
“Hyung.” He gasped, praying he hadn’t heard anything.
He hadn’t told his family why he returned without any notice, or how he had left everything behind, as it was, hurting too much to move things around. He told them he had a lot of leaves left and decided to take a vacation because he missed them too much. He knew that reason hadn’t fit well with them, especially his brother, who almost knew him inside out.
“Get ready. We are going to meet the guys. They’ve been begging me to bring you since they heard you have returned.” His brother told him, No room for argument.
Wonwoo couldn’t get out of it even if he wanted to. So, he followed him into the country bar quietly. It wasn’t like the one he went with Joshua and Hoshi in the city. This was a chill, cosy, small bar, with a karaoke in the middle, and old people playing cards in almost every corner. There was no dancing, no loud music blaring through the speakers; the only sounds were of laughter and chatter.
His old friends welcomed him warmly, bombarding him with questions, wanting to know all about his life in the city. He tried his best to give them a version of himself that he was once proud of, but didn’t exist anymore.
The conversation shifted from him when they were all satisfied with his updates, when he was on the verge of bragging, when he could see jealousy swimming in their eyes. He blended in the background, and as soon as the opportunity arrived, downed the whiskey fast enough for the world to spin around. Once drunk, he was a new man. His laughter was the loudest at their table, hiding the pain behind his eyes, pretending, acting, disappearing bit by bit.
By the time the group dispersed, his brother was nowhere to be found (probably driving the others back home since he was the only sober one left), and Wonwoo found himself sitting with his childhood friend, clinking their glasses of whiskey.
“You have never stayed so long before. Is everything okay in the city?”
It was only a matter of time before someone started enquiring about that.
“Of course. Everything’s fine.” He answered, trying to sound genuine. He had mastered the art of lying by now, but if anyone could catch it, it was the person who had known him since childhood.
Junhui has been his friend since they met in the classroom in nursery school, only to be separated when Wonwoo moved away for college. And considering how bad Wonwoo is at maintaining relationships, he slowly lost touch with him. But a part of him always missed him, that old life, the simpler days. Everyone craves to go back to their childhood when they grow up, right?
Junhui didn’t interrogate further, just watched him, observed him, like he knew Wonwoo was hiding something, like he knew the man standing in front of him wasn’t the Wonwoo he once remembered.
Junhui reminded Wonwoo of the days when they wore their hearts on their sleeves, when they were pure and innocent, exploring themselves together, when the world seemed full of endless possibilities, and they could do anything they wanted, truly free.
Junhui wasn’t supposed to be that same person anymore. Sure, he had gotten taller, his shoulders were wide, his jaw more defined, and his eyes sharp. But he smiled the same—soft, comforting, warm. He easily wrapped an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder, as if they had never lost contact, as if it was normal.
How did adulting not change him at all? How did he manage to come out of it unscathed when Wonwoo was left with bruises and cuts? It was so unfair.
Once the bar emptied, they moved their party of two outside. They sat in the swings by the playground where they once spent so many summer vacations playing. It was now abandoned, dark, but still felt like home. Wonwoo liked the quiet, the familiarity of his surroundings, wrapped in nostalgia and a ghost of a smile on his face.
“This is reminding me of the day you came out to me here.” He told Junhui, who laughed loudly.
“Please don’t bring that up. I was so scared, I thought you would never talk to me again…but you…” Junhui trailed, staring at Wonwoo’s face.
“I kissed you instead.” Wonwoo chuckled. “That was the easiest way to shut your rambling, assure you, and tell you about myself.”
“It was the worst kiss of my life. Still is.” Junhui confessed, and Wonwoo agreed.
Immediately after the kiss, they both realised they were better off as best friends. Neither could imagine the other as their lover, their friendship too precious for them to ruin it.
“So, then tell me about your best. All we have done this evening is talk about me. Tell me about yourself.” Wonwoo asked, curious. He should be the last person bringing that up. But, he needed to know that love still existed for people like them, that at least one of them was happy.
Junhui rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, there have been a few, but none to be called the best. It isn’t easy finding love for a gay man in this village. There aren’t many options.” Junhui shrugged. “I’m single as fuck.”
Wonwoo laughed, then leaned closer, his actions heavily influenced by alcohol. Junhui wasn’t any better; he swayed a little, getting his swing closer to Wonwoo, and their lips touched.
Junhui’s hands caught Wonwoo’s waist, more to balance himself than seductive, but it had the same effect nevertheless. Wonwoo was hyperaware of the way their knees were touching, of his hands in Junhui’s hair, the kiss deepening. When Junhui’s hands moved up his torso, he flinched. His stomach has always been extremely ticklish, so he felt goosebumps crawling up his skin when Junhui’s cold fingers swiped across his belly button. He was overwhelmed, being touched after so long.
It’s really been so long.
Not since…
“Mingyu,” Wonwoo said, by habit, because only one person has ever touched him like that, has treated him so delicately, has made him fall apart in the best and worst way possible.
Wonwoo froze, and he was too far gone to notice Junhui had too. He gasped, breathing for air, knowing he was on the edge of a panic attack similar to the one he had in the bar. He fell on the ground, hands first, head facing the soil, heaving. This couldn’t be happening in front of Junhui.
“Wonwoo, are you okay?” Junhui reached for him.
He noticed his friend’s concerned eyes.“Yeah. I’m sorry, this was wrong. It felt…” He tried to speak, still catching his breath.
“Weird, I know.” Junhui smiled, helping him sit back on the swing. “This beats our first. It’s worse than that.”
Junhui’s humour acted as a distraction, helped Wonwoo block the wave of emotions, the phantom touches his skin had never forgotten, and the yearning. He tried to smile at him, thankful that Junhui didn’t make a big deal out of this.
He relaxed too soon because he didn’t know how to answer the next question Junhui asked.
“Wonwoo, who’s Mingyu?"
“Mingyu is…was someone important,” the past tense stung, but somehow talking to Junhui about him didn’t feel like the sky would crash down on him. Maybe because Junhui was so far away from his life, from everything Wonwoo went through, from the person he had become. Junhui still felt like a part of his childhood, his true happiness, the world separate from the one he lived in now.
“I’m listening.” Junhui encouraged. “If you want to talk.”
And talk Wonwoo did. By the end of their conversation, he was a sobbing mess, crying into his best friend’s arms, feeling closer to him than he had in the last few years. He felt lighter, like the weight of the world didn’t lie on his tired shoulders, as if he could start anew.
So that’s what he did. He returned to the city two days before Joshua’s deadline. His house was just the same as he had left it, but someone had picked up the glass pieces off the floor, thrown the torn clothes, and fixed a new nameplate on the door, probably Joshua; he always had the spare key with him.
When Wonwoo slept in that house that night, he didn’t have any nightmares; the emptiness of it didn’t come to eat him alive, it didn’t feel so suffocating to wake up to. It was still hard to cook breakfast in the kitchen, still hard to ignore the half-emptied cupboards, drawers and shelves, but he was optimistic when he walked into the office, ready to show his progress to Joshua, to joke around with Hoshi, to start being his old self again, bit by bit.
But when he reached his cubicle, he felt like he might have taken his last breath. The shadow came first, dark, taller than anyone on their floor, familiar, thickening the air around him. He knew what he had to face even before he looked up.
“Wonwoo hyung.”
That voice, deep, hurt, and painful, forced him to look straight into the eyes of the figure towering in front of him.
The first thing he noticed was the green hair, the colour fading now, almost ashy, but still there, evidence of how it hadn’t been that long since…
Wonwoo had imagined this moment for so long, especially whenever he would be in a fit of rage. He would think of so many things to say, to shout, sometimes he even imagined himself grabbing MIngyu’s collar. But now, he stayed frozen, eyes watering up rapidly.
They have done such a good job of staying out of each other’s territories for the last four months. Now, when is Wonwoo finally ready to move on? Why did he have to run into him?
Joshua, who had been standing beside Mingyu, reacted first, looking just as taken aback as the two of them. “Wonwoo? I thought you were coming on Friday.”
Wonwoo’s heart stung. Something about Joshua speaking with Mingyu behind his back didn’t sit right with him. ‘Yeah.” He managed to say, eyes never leaving Mingyu, as if he would disappear if he blinked.
“What are you doing here?” He asked Mingyu, ignoring Joshua for the time being. He didn’t mean to sound so rude, but he couldn’t look weak.
“I…I heard you disappeared.” Mingyu said, guilty, eyes looking at the ground, one hand grabbing Wonwoo’s desk in a vice grip.
“Yeah, I did. I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Wonwoo muttered, gritting his teeth.
“I’ll let you two talk.” Joshua tried to escape, but Wonwoo grabbed his hand.
“No need. We are done talking, let’s go grab a coffee.” He walked past Mingyu as if it didn’t hurt him at all, as if he wasn’t dying to look back one last time.
“What the fuck was that? Why were you talking to him?” Wonwoo asked Joshua as soon as they found a spot without people.
“He must have heard from Seokmin about you.” Joshua said, then quickly raised his hands, “I didn’t tell anyone. Everyone in the office knew. There have been rumours, gossip.”
“I don’t care about that. But why was he here?”
Joshua looked at him as if he were speaking a different language. “I told you, he heard about it. He must have been worried.”
Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh dryly. “Stop joking. And I know I can’t stop you from talking to anyone, but I would appreciate it if you kept me out of it. Don't do it at my cubicle next time.”
He had nothing else to talk to Joshua, so he went to his cubicle, ignoring the whispers surrounding him, the stares, the casual nosy questions from his colleagues. He only looked up from his laptop when Hoshi asked him to join him during lunch break. The man had enough decency not to bring up any odd topic, happy to fill him in on the work he missed.
“Joshua said he had some work to wrap up. He won’t join us.” Hoshi told him.
“Probably too embarrassed to face me.” Wonwoo knew his anger towards Joshua wasn’t fair. But he was angry, so damn angry he didn’t know how to control it.
Maybe it was better this way, rather than the rage than the hurt.
He planned on eating his lunch quietly, going back to his work and leaving the office as fast as possible, but his plans didn’t work when he saw Mingyu walk towards his table, this time accompanied by Seokmin.
“Hyung, how are you?” Seokmin tried to sound casual, and kudos to him for trying, but Wonwoo wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.
“What is your problem?” He asked Mingyu, once again ignoring everything and everyone else around them. The ache in his chest was now more like a fireball, burning, angry, so furious.
“You disappeared,” Mingyu said, calm, in contrast to Wonwoo’s sharp tone.
“Are you a broken record?” Wonwoo tried to keep his voice down, aware of the people around them. He has no intention of adding fuel to the gossip.
He noticed Seokmin and Hoshi slowly making their way out, leaving just Mingyu and Wonwoo at the table, exactly what he didn't want them to do, but it was too late to escape now.
“I was worried. Joshua hyung also didn’t know where you were for the first two days. I even…” Mingyu looked like he was about to cry, something flashing before his eyes. “We even went to the flat, but you weren’t there.”
“You did what?” Wonwoo couldn’t believe this. Mingyu went to the place he once called home, the place he helped to build from scratch, only to abandon in the end. How could he?
But then, he remembered something else, the broken nameplate, the shards of glasses, the torn pictures and the shreds of clothes that Mingyu left behind. He must have seen it all.
Good, he should see the mess he had left for Wonwoo to pick up.
“We were worried. I…I thought something happened to you. The house was….you were….I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.” Mingyu’s voice was getting smaller, like it usually does when he is about to cry. He even rubbed his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, again and again, to stop himself from crying.
Wonwoo hated how he knew that detail, how he knew him so well, how he would never forget his every small habit. Noticing the stutter of his voice, the shaking of his fingers when he reached to grab the glass of water on the table, and the reflective pain in his eyes,
Something about Mingyu didn’t look right. He looked so small, fiddling, nervous, sad.
Wonwoo stopped himself from snapping. He sighed, calm, grounded, trying to be confident. “I needed some time away. I’m fine now.”
“You could have at least told Joshua hyung where you were going,” Mingyu whispered, looking down. All Wonwoo wanted to do was reach across the table and hold him, but he couldn’t. Mingyu had made sure of that.
Just like that, the rage cracked in his bones all over again.
“Do you think I was in my right mind when I left?” He raised his voice.
Mingyu clicked his tongue, taking a seat in front of him. It was too much, being alone with Mingyu, being able to talk to him, being this close to him. Yet, he felt so far, like Mingyu was there but not at the same time. What if it was another part of the hallucination? What if Mingyu really wasn’t there and Wonwoo was just slowly losing his mind?
Lost in that thought, he reached to grab Mingyu’s hand across the table, just to make sure, waking when Mingyu jolted it away, shocked.
“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo croaked, eyes teary despite himself.
“Hyung, please just listen to what I have to say,” Mingyu said, taking a shuddering breath.
“What?” Wonwoo tried not to be hopeful, but his heart betrayed him, skipping a beat. What if he had finally changed his mind? What if he realised he had made a mistake?
“Joshua hyung told me how hard it was all on you. It makes sense. I left, but you were stuck in the same place, in the same house, and even at work, you would have to walk on eggshells to avoid me. It’s not fair to you. Especially since leaving was my decision.”
“Glad to know it’s not the same for you.” Wonwoo snorted, dark.
Was Mingyu bragging about being able to move on?
Mingyu laughed this time. Oh, Wonwoo missed it so much.
“Hyung, do you think this has been easy on me?” Mingyu asked, shocked.
“Why should I care if it isn’t? Aren’t you the one to break up with me?” Wonwoo couldn’t understand Mingyu for the first time. He always thought he knew him inside out, but this…this Mingyu was beyond unrecognisable. If he looked at Wonwoo with the same softness, same yearning, same love, then why the hell did he leave?
“You’re right, and I am not here to whine about it. I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that anymore. I have signed my resignation.”
“Why? You don’t have to do that for me.” Wonwoo couldn’t take any more favours from Mingyu.
“It’s not for you.” Mingyu cried. “I thought I could do this. I thought I would move on eventually. But when you disappeared, I was so scared to lose you all over again. When I visited the house, all the memories…” he took a deep breath, a lone tear falling from his eyes. “I don’t blame you for breaking it all apart. I would have done that a long time ago if I lived there.”
So it was Mingyu who picked up the mess.
“Sorry about your clothes.” Wonwoo didn’t know what else to say.
“It’s okay. I wouldn’t have used them anyway. Too many memories attached.” Mingyu confessed.
Wonwoo was at the peak of frustration. “I don’t understand. If you love me so much, why the hell are you so adamant about breaking up? Why not try? Fight harder?”
“Fight who hyung? You? Then what? You try to fix it? You let me believe that it doesn’t bother you anymore? Watch you make another adjustment?”
So, that’s why.
“You could have talked to me about this. I would have...”
“Changed? Again?” Mingyu snorted. “You were losing yourself with me.”
Wonwoo didn’t have much to say. He remembered it all: the fake smiles, the flowers to make up as quickly as possible, the unresolved disputes, the hiding, the lies, the pretentious image of a happy couple.
They weren’t like that when they began; they loved and respected and promised that they would never change. Somewhere along the years, they forgot that promise, or Wonwoo did, too scared to lose Mingyu, not knowing how to live without him, alone.
But what did he get by doing that? At the end, he did end up without Mingyu and alone.
“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo said finally, acceptance visible on his face, tears rolling down his cheeks too.
Mingyu shook his hand, a goodbye. ‘Don’t apologise. I hope one day, we meet again, accidentally, maybe on the subway, and you smile at me, like I’m just another boy.”