I Wonder

Written by Dita Hutapea

illustrated by Yulia Saraswati

15th of January 2019

Air conditioner hummed from the top corner of the room, opposite from where Youngsoo sat. A wide window was located just behind his back and setting sun spilled its orange warmth through the glass panes, hitting his back and casting his shadow upon the linoleum floor and the greige-coloured walls. It was peculiarly chilly despite the warm sunshine engulfing his back, but he had anticipated this weather and had huddled up in black, cashmere cardigans before he’d left his place. It was comfortable. Everything felt like home, felt easy except for the dread-inspiring question Minjoon had just asked them: Where do we assign Jeongjin?

At the right corner of the meeting table between them, sat the newest addition to their team: a new radio host, a Seoul National University communications fresh graduate; Jeongjin. The young man was chewing tenderly on his bottom lip, scraping off a thin layer of pink lip balm he’d applied a few hours ago. His cheeks were not chubby, rather plump, and it moved along with the tugging of his rabbit-like front teeth. The action itself was not visible enough if his face wasn’t being observed closely, so it was already weird of Youngsoo to notice it.

Youngsoo snapped himself out of his trance, pried his eyes from Jeongjin’s face, and began weighing the options, the pros and cons. He made his mind.

“He can accompany me.”

The whole meeting room fell silent as the suggestion escaped Youngsoo’s lips.

Minjoon gaped, Aeji stared, Haeseong remained stoic.

“No, I—I mean—” Youngsoo’s cheeks were heating up, getting redder like ripe tomatoes with each word.  “It’s just that…assigning three hosts to one segment won’t be effective. I’m not saying that it’s impossible but it’s just—” His voice failed him; he was utterly flustered.

This was new.

This was a very big deal, actually.

Youngsoo had been running the night segment all alone with a burning determination which could, at any time, cross the line between hard work and obsession. Somehow, he had discovered a sense of responsibility after years and years of talking to people who were awake during the most ungodly hours—an unspoken duty and promise to at least accompany those who were alone at night, sharing a darkness with no one.

“No, it’s okay, we understand,” Minjoon cut in, leaning forward to meet Jeongjin’s eyes. “Is Jeongjin okay with that? Joining Youngsoo in the night segment?”

The rookie Jeongjin was gorgeous. He glowed under the honey-like sunlight—what was left of it anyway—and his pretty doe-shaped eyes seemed to be filled with little speckles of stars, the perfect epitome of a downsized galaxy that Youngsoo felt like falling, getting sucked into, and becoming lost in its depth. Jeongjin ceased his anxious chewing and smiled. “I’d be honoured.”

“It’s settled then!” Aeji clapped. “If you ever need someone to show you the best cuisines this area has in store, you know who to call.” He sent him a wink. “Good luck with airing, Jeongjin!”

Haeseong stood up and so did Minjoon.

“Best of luck with the night segment, Jo,” Haeseong said, softly smiling.

“Never hesitate to call me or Aeji whenever you need help!”

“It wasn’t very like you back there,” Minjoon told Youngsoo, punching his shoulder playfully. The latter flinched, his stomach plunged from the dread and excitement that had started pooling there. “But that’s the best idea we had, so, thank you.”

Jeongjin bowed, uttering several sincere “thank you”s to Youngsoo—too polite, too appreciative, too sweet for his own good—as Minjoon, Haeseong and Aeji left the meeting room. Then the moment there were only him and Youngsoo in the room, the confidence he had exuded, fell. He looked confused, unsettlement, his eyebrows furrowing and lips drawn into a frown. Youngsoo noticed his fingers fiddling with the black hem of his sweater.

“I—uh, should we start preparing our stuff?” Youngsoo tried to break the uncomfortable silence. A little burst of warmth exploded in his chest when Jeongjin nodded, wide eyes eager and hopeful.

“Okay,” he said, though his voice was timid and shy.

“Let’s go, then.”

16th of January 2019

“So, how was it, airing with Youngsoo?” asked Aeji. His face was propped on his palms, elbows resting against the cold, white marble top of the studio’s pantry island. Refreshments had been prepared and the three of them—Aeji, Jeongjin and Haeseong—were conversing easily in their lunch break, occasionally turning to watch the meeting room through the glass partitions dividing them.

“He’s very kind,” Jeongjin blurted out.

His cheeks flushed remembering how gentle Youngsoo had been yesterday. Youngsoo had known how nervous he was, yet all he said was, “You’re going to do great.” Not forgetting the tiny, but genuine, smile he had given him. “Relax, I’ve got you.” Never once had he judged how clumsy Jeongjin was.

The sight of papers filled with script haphazardly arranged on their desk was still fresh in his memory.

The memory was dispelled by the taste of chocolate in his mouth as he slowly chewed on the last bite of his brownie to get rid of a silly grin threatening to break across his face.

“Well, I bet he is,” said Aeji, getting up to cut two more squares of the brownies. Even with his head down, Jeongjin could see fondness glimmering in his eyes. “He might be a little awkward with people, but I think he’s just afraid, you know?” A small smile played on his lips. His eyes fixed on the thin chocolate crust of the brownies, which cracked like brittle earth as he dragged the tip of the knife through. “I don’t know. I feel a little empty whenever I look at him. Maybe he’s lonely.” He sighed. “You gotta know that he never once asked me, Haeseong, or anyone else to cover for him.”

He stopped at the edge, putting away the knife before meeting Jeongjin’s gaze. “Here, have some,” he said, handing a small square of brownie.

“People might think that he's too entitled, that he has too much pride in him and his job to let other people do it for him,” Aeji continued, taking a little bite of the brownie he had cut for himself. “But I don’t think that… that’s the case for Youngsoo.” He swallowed. “He’s a sweetheart. He’s just afraid to open up and that, paired with his insane sense of responsibility, is a recipe for what so-called opinionated people call as arrogance.”

Nodding with agreement, Jeongjin brought his fingers near his lips, ready to lick them clean of the chocolate fudge sticking to their tips, but realisation hit him in the guts. It was never a good decision to do what the society condemned, considered as an unhygienic habit in front of a respectable senior, so he brought his hand back down, making a mental note to think more before he went and did something in the future, and hid his fingers behind the pretty brown box withholding the dessert.

“Anyways,” Haeseong said. He scraped the fudge at the bottom off with the edge of the knife. “Can’t waste good chocolate, can I?” He chuckled, grinning as he swiped the smear of chocolate with a finger and licked it clean. His eyes crimped in that way that made them look like upended crescents, the corners of crinkling happily.

Jeongjin stared at him in disbelief.

“No one should say that I’m unhygienic,” Haeseong answered his look. “I’ve washed—my hands—and the knife—so.” He was sucking on his index in every pause between his words.

Jeongjin was a little taken aback by this nonchalant behaviour, but was very relieved to see it. He couldn’t contain his smile, so it broke across his face, his bunny-like incisors peeking. “Yeah, of course,” he said, licking his fingers clean, too. So skittishly that Haeseong thought that he looked like a puppy getting his favourite treat. The fudge on his fingers no longer existed.

“Leave Youngsoo some of those. That’s his favourite brownies,” Haeseong said before he winked and left the room.

Not so long after his departure, Youngsoo came in, wrapped in a thick-knotted black wool sweater, his skinny legs appearing rather fragile for a chilly day, especially in those light blue jeans ripped just above his kneecaps. A pair of black and white Air Jordans on his feet.

“Hello,” he greeted Jeongjin. He looked adorable, drowning in that oversized sweater of his like a child snuggling in a cocoon of blankets loosely tucked around his body, far too big against his thin frame; his pale skin starkly contrasting with his outfit. “Are those brownies?” he asked. He walked towards the island and stopped just beside Jeongjin. “May I?”

“Of course. Haeseong told me you like those best.”

Humming and nodding as if in agreement, Youngsoo took a piece. “Told him he doesn’t have to get these for me. Never listened… Not that I’m complaining, though.” He popped it into his mouth, cheeks going up and down as he chewed.

“You like it that much? I can get those for you on my way. It’s an amazing brownie — What was it, ‘Le Gina Boulangerie’?”

“If anything, it should be me buying those for you,” Youngsoo said, his words a little muffled as he was still chomping on the brownies until there were only two squares left in the box. “Actually, I’ve got something to… to talk to you about,” he said as disquietude started to churn in his stomach.

Jeongjin listened intently on his next words.

“Are you, um, okay with doing the night segment with me?” he asked. There was barely-concealed trepidation trembling upon every syllable. The air soured with apprehension. “I-I mean, it’s not that I’m doubting you but I just feel… bad. I was afraid that I was actually pressuring you to do something you’ll regret later by agreeing with the idea of you joining me on the night segment out loud.

“With you doing the night segment with me, that would take away a good portion of your day. Heck, you’ll be stuck with me,” he said. “Just—If you’re not okay with that and every other thing… you can always tell me, you know.” He did not avoid Jeongjin’s attentive gaze, and looked calm despite his words, but his eyes proved that nothing he hadn’t lied; they were half-lidded, but pleading, clouded with a harrowing guilt and fear.

When the last word had rolled off his tongue, Youngsoo had felt a pang of regret. Sure, Jeongjin looked happy doing the night segment with him, but telling him that he could tell him if he felt like he wanted to quit anytime—a part of him wanted to be selfish and make the younger man stay. It was only one segment together. But the thought of being alone again after getting a taste of warmth, of being accompanied instead of accompanying, talking with him was unnerving. Anxiety pooled in his stomach, suffocated his windpipe, as he waited for a response.

Jeongjin smiled. “Are you serious right now? If I had doubts on that I wouldn’t have said okay when you first proposed the idea.” Placing his hand on Youngsoo’s shoulder, giving him a solid pat, little did he know he had snapped off the parade of eerie notions marching in Youngsoo’s mind. “I want to be with you. Let me be your company. I won’t leave, trust me.”

Trust me. The phrase rang, echoed in Youngsoo’s head. Something he would like to believe in and hold on to. Something that sounded a little too good, too effortlessly given, to be true.

But the air was once again undemanding and the light in Jeongjin’s eyes coruscated. His gaze was steady, unyielding, as if to will Youngsoo to believe his words. Youngsoo yearned to see that wonderful light, that firm conviction he had for him. Over and over again, he repeated this next word in his head. In hope of more of the sunsets left for him in his lifetime—a little bit—with every bit of courage he had in store, he said, “Okay.”

He found himself smiling.

“Okay,” he said again, smiling even wider. “Okay, yeah, cool.” He swore he was smiling so wide that a thin portion of his gum peeked. Embarrassment was there, urging him to quell his smile, but he was unable to for some reason, so he chuckled to himself.

“Okay.”

10th of March 2019

It was a calm and peaceful night for Youngsoo and Jeongjin. An hour had passed since Minjoon bid them goodbye. A little more had passed after Youngsoo made two glasses of warm coffee as they played ‘I Miss You, I’m Sorry’ by Gracie Abrams on the radio.

Every so often they would walk out of the unclosed door of their booth, which opened directly to their comfortably-, yet palely-lit pantry, the ceiling lights casting a vanilla hue refracted on the marble table top, framing their faces in a soft halo. Time would slip past their awareness, sometimes. Jeongjin would giggle at Youngsoo when he’d mouth a quiet “Oh no!” when the song was ending earlier than he had expected, grumbling at the microwave to heat the milk a little faster, then he’d skip across the grey tiles of the floor. Jeongjin’s laughter, inspired by his demeanour, would follow him.

“That was ‘I Miss You, I’m Sorry’ by Gracie Abrams. Welcome to Kkul FM, how are you doing?” Jeongjin opened the talk just as the song had ended.

Youngsoo plopped down on his chair, handing Jeongjin his mug of coffee, the thick, black porcelain of the mug warm against his colder palm. He tapped on the audio panel to activate his microphone. “We hope that you’re doing okay. We just had coffee to keep us company. We hope you’ll be listening to the next song with a warm mug to accompany you, too. We’ll be playing ‘2 Soon’ by Keshi. I think it’s perfect for nights, really.” Youngsoo wrapped his long, thin fingers around his beige mug for warmth.

“In the meantime, let’s share stories or thoughts with us through our official LINE account @kkulfm or our website, kkulfm.com,” Jeongjin continued. “We’re looking forward to reading your submissions!”

They switched their microphones off as the song started.

His eyes widened at the endless notifications popping up on the company phone, the one that everybody uses for listener interaction purposes as the tunes of the song started playing. “Oh, there’s a lot!” he said.

Youngsoo hummed in contentment. “As expected of our listeners.”

“What do you think is the definition or the standard of ‘doing your best’? How do you know if you’ve done your best?” Jeongjin read the first message that had come in.

“Hold on, that’s interesting.”

“I think a student submitted this. She just got her exam scores.”

Youngsoo’s fingers tapped against his own lips, elbows propped on the desk. His eyes became distant. “Hm… What do you think is the standard?”

But the song had come to an end.

Microphones turned on.

“That was ‘2 Soon’ by Keshi, a perfect night jam, indeed,” Youngsoo said. He scooted closer to Jeongjin, close enough for him to be able to lean his elbow on the armrest of the latter’s chair, holding up his head. “We’ve gotten some submissions over time.” He silently read through the message on the screen, the phone placed to balance on Jeongjin’s thighs.

“The first one is from a student,” Jeongjin said, bringing the phone closer to read it. He gently pushed Youngsoo’s head away from peeking at the phone and blocking his view.

Retreating, Youngsoo chuckled quietly in defeat.

“She submitted a story about her recently-returned exam. She said that ‘I felt like I’ve done everything that I could’ve done; I stayed up to study, I asked my teacher about things that I didn’t quite understand—everything was overwhelming’,” read Jeongjin.

He had put the phone on the table, a nice distance away from the two of them that it was just comfortable for both to read. Shoulders pressed against each other. He couldn’t help but notice how Youngsoo smelled like white musk and lavender, filling his lungs with warmth.

“ ‘I’ve never felt comfortable asking teachers things and school has always been so difficult so when I knew I passed the exam I was relieved, I felt accomplished even though every other person in my life seemed to think that it wasn’t the best I could do. I’ve been trying to not think about it too much and think about what I can do to become better instead but I couldn’t, so I wanted to ask… What do you think is the definition or standard of ‘doing your best’? How do you know if you’ve done your best? Thank you.’ Well, thank you, too.”

Youngsoo smiled.

“Leave us your thoughts in response to this question on our official LINE account @kkulfm or on our website, kkulfm.com! We’ll be waiting as we play ‘Be My Mistake’ by The 1975,” said Jeongjin.

“My answer,” said Youngsoo as the song played, leaning against their desk. An over-sized black shirt loosely covered his elbows. His face was full of expectancy, eyes glimmering with curiosity.

“Doing my best—to me…? … I think it’s when I’m able to go past my limits.”

Youngsoo waited, his lips pouting a little.

“Like, I’m not that confident,” Jeongjin elaborated, tucking his hands between his thighs. He looked down. “But I have to be, right? No one wants to hire an unconfident, awkward fresh-graduate to be a radio host, so. And even though I don’t think that I’ve done my best at that, but still, I tried my best although it’s something really tough for me.” Then he looked up. A shiver shot through his bones the instant his doe eyes were locked onto Youngsoo’s feline ones.

“You’ve done your best, then,” Youngsoo said. A fond smile played on his glossed lips as the song came to an end.

“We’ve gotten a lot of responses right here about the standard of doing your best. Here we have Jungsoon’s! Hello, Jungsoon. He said that ‘my standard of doing my best is when I’ve achieved the goal I set’,” read Jeongjin.

“Another one,” Youngsoo took over, “we have Haneul: ‘I think that I’ve done my best when I’ve done everything I can think of doing to complete that task.’ Thank you for the submissions! There are a lot of good ones. We’re sorry we’re not able to read all of them, but just know that every one of them matters. Really, thank you for letting us know your thoughts.”

“What about you, Youngsoo?” Jeongjin asked, rotating his chair so he was facing Youngsoo. “Give us your thoughts!” “Ah… Doing my best? ...” He leaned against the table, eyes narrowing in thought. “Well. While it is right that you can think that you could’ve done better after you’ve done something… you still did what you did, right? And I think, what we do is always the best that we can do at that very moment.

“Try to see it, like, perhaps I have an assignment due the day after tomorrow, and today I decide not to look at it at all because I feel tired. I don’t care if it's a big assignment so I don’t do anything. The next day when I’m rushing to get it done, I might say, ‘Ah, I could’ve used my time better yesterday by doing this, rather than not doing anything!’ but during that time when I did nothing, not doing anything seemed like the best option and the best I could do, so I did that?”

He paused.

“I’m not saying that we shouldn’t re-evaluate how we acted, and I’m not saying that we shouldn’t reflect on ourselves, but—” he stopped, swaying a little on his chair, collecting words. “It’s just… you know what’s best for you. A lot of times people say that line while expecting something out of you, like the way they say ‘you know what’s best for you’ when they advertise something—they’re saying that with expectancy that their products will be ‘the best for you’, right? I guess it feels like a form of psychological manipulation to trick you into thinking you don’t really know what is best for you; others do. And that starts a well of self-doubt.

“So… When you’re about to beat yourself up for not ‘doing your best’, please still give yourself credits. You did well. You could’ve done something different, but you’d chosen to do that and that’s okay! You did well, nevertheless,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “I think that’s how I see it. ‘Doing your best’.”

He smiled a small, yet bright smile.

“You did well, Jeongjin. Everyone, you did well.”

9th of July 2019

“Thank you for tuning in to Kkul FM. This is Youngsoo,” he said with a tender smile, before turning to Jeongjin.

“And this is Jeongjin. You’ve done well today.”

Sniffling as the tunes of the song ‘On A Prayer’ by Boy In Space started playing, Jeongjin tightened the grip of the blanket Youngsoo had draped around his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller, folding his legs and tucking his toes into the blanket. The soft, thick fabric rubbed on his grey woollen socks.

It was a relief that they were finished with today’s segment.

He let his head drop onto his knees only to feel mucus running down his nostrils, so he looked up and inhaled deeply. His head awfully spinning, he stared up at the ceiling that felt and seemed so distant and distorted perhaps he was seeing the sky instead of a ceiling. He brought his hands to his forehead and pressed his palms lightly against it, intent on suppressing the throbbing behind it. It didn’t really help. Jeongjin groaned.

“Jeongjin, please go home with me?” Youngsoo asked. He was putting away the headphones he had been wearing during the airing. The air seemed to dissipate, his head felt a little bit lighter, and, while still seated, using the tips of his toes, he dragged his desk chair towards Jeongjin. “There’s no way you’re gonna take a train in that state.” Gently, he placed his hands on the headphones perched on Jeongjin’s ears.

Jeongjin grabbed Youngsoo’s cold, bare wrists. “No, there’s no need—”

“Jeongjin, you’re burning.”

“But—”

“Please?” Despite his grip, Youngsoo eased the headphones off Jeongjin. “You’ll never be a bother to me.”

Jeongjin rubbed his itchy eyes, his blurry vision gradually becoming clearer. Tears he hadn’t known were there, stuck to his hands. He could finally see Youngsoo properly.

His fair skin glowed under the pale lights of the lamps ahead, his usually cat-like, half-lidded eyes all round and big, lips forming a small pout he would likely deny ever making (“No, I don’t pout.”). Jeongjin couldn’t possibly say no when Youngsoo looked so much like a kicked puppy.

He looked adorable and…small?

He with the black of his outfit stood out against the warm, beige tones of their booth—beige soundproofed walls, beige carpets, cream-coloured desk chairs. Unexpected but welcomed warmth surged through him, flushing his cheeks, and Jeongjin felt like he could bury himself in this inebriating warmth anytime.

“Okay then,” Jeongjin mumbled, mouth dry.

“You’ll go home with me?”

He nodded, lips pressed to a tight line, dimples on his cheeks. It was a hesitant contrast to Youngsoo’s cheeks puffing up, creasing his eyes into crescents, him smiling a smile so big it showed a little of his gums, thankful and relieved.

They went home in Youngsoo’s car as the latter drove carefully through the night. Jeongjin had passed out on the passenger’s seat, drool dripping down the corners of his lips, making them glisten despite the balm which had long ago dried.

He wasn’t awoken until he felt warm liquid touching his lips and a solid edge gently prying them open. Panicked.

“What—”

But soon enough, as his vision cleared, he realised that it was just a spoonful of soup. Whoever held it managed to push the spoon into his mouth. The broth was so savoury and thick against the roof of his mouth. Jeongjin truly woke up this time. His eyes fluttered open, a second wave of panic sweeping through his guts as he found himself in a strange bedroom—the interior far more luxurious and spacious than his own—when his gaze caught Youngsoo’s.

Youngsoo in white pyjamas, his cheeks rosy from the heat coming off the bowl of ramen and the room’s heating system, pale skin basking under the cool moonlight flooding through the large windows.

All these months getting used to how warm Youngsoo looked under the golden sunset that would illuminate their workspace and under the broken-white ceiling lights of their booth, yet Jeongjin couldn’t explain why he looked the warmest here, sitting on his bed, carrying a bowl of ramen, beneath the silvery light of whatever mixture of lights beyond the wide window panes along the walls of the room, the stripy shadows of their frames crooked across his features. For a moment, Youngsoo seemed the brightest light in the dark, dark room.

“You’re awake,” Youngsoo said, retracting his hand and the spoon. “I made us some ramen. You wanna eat?”

“Now I think that I’m really burdening you.” Jeongjin pouted. His eyelids still felt so heavy. A headache kicked the right side of his head and he groaned, his fingers going to massage the scalp. “You even lent me your bed…”

“Well, to be fair, I was the one who wanted some ramen,” Youngsoo said. His free hand rested on Jeongjin’s left shoulders, pressing into the knotted nerves and muscles to loosen them. “And I am the one who doesn’t want to have you absent from the booth, so. Gotta take care of you,” he added with a grin. He offered another spoonful of broth once again which was delightfully accepted with a slurp.

“You’re adorable,” said Youngsoo, “like a big baby.”

“I’m sorry, what—”

“But, even though you’re adorable when you’re sick, please don’t get sick.” Youngsoo placed the bowl on the bedside table and scooted closer to Jeongjin. His hands, relieved from the weight of the bowl of ramen, began carding through Jeongjin’s hair, his soft, black locks parting, his scalp grazing his soup-warmed fingers.

11th of July 2019

Tapping his fingers on the wooden top of their desk, Jeongjin took another sip of coffee from his black mug. Coffee which Minjoon had brewed for him some time ago with a worried look on his face that told him Youngsoo still hadn’t informed him about where he was. The coffee had already gone cold. Minjoon stayed longer unlike usual, waiting for a word from Youngsoo. Anxiety and dread ghosted upon both of them.

When the time came for their segment, Jeongjin bit his lips before he announced that “Youngsoo is unable to make it here tonight… Oh! Someone just chatted us through our LINE account: ‘Jeongjin, are you doing okay? Take care! Also, I hope Youngsoo is doing okay too’.”

Swinging in his chair a little, Jeongjin asked, “Are you guys missing Youngsoo? Because if yes, me, too. I miss him. This room feels too cold without him.” He scrolled through a list of song options—“I’ll be playing ‘Starboy’ by The Weeknd featuring Daft Punk next,”—and hit play.

“Jeongjin?” Minjoon called, entering the booth in a hurried manner. Distressed. His hands gleamed with sweat. “I—Please don’t freak out, he’s doing okay.”

“What do you mean?” Jeongjin’s head was spinning, unable to comprehend the words Minjoon was throwing at him.

“He—He got into a car crash. But it’s okay, he’s doing okay, someone from the hospital called me because I’m one of his emergency contacts. He’s doing okay, he does have quite a few fractures and broken bones but that’s all—no vital injuries.”

“But, why?” Jeongjin felt himself getting smaller, his fear condensing, a weight of unsettlement settling in his chest. “Why—but isn’t Youngsoo a great driver?”

“I don’t know, Jeongjin, I don’t know,” Minjoon said. “But I’ll go to the hospital where he’s staying soon…”

“C-Can I—Wait no, it’s okay.” Jeongjin cursed himself for his trembling.

“What, you wouldn’t like to go?” Minjoon asked. “It’s okay, the directors must understand. This is a serious matter after all.”

“No, I’ll stay, it’s okay,” Jeongjin said. “It’s okay, you just go, I’ll stay.” He smiled. “Show must go on, right? If anything, Youngsoo would want me to stay.”

“Alright, thank you.” Minjoon returned the smile. “I’ll text you the address, so you come there as soon as possible!” He left, and in his rush, forgot to close the door.

In that booth meant for two, there was only Jeongjin. Perhaps this was exactly the way Youngsoo had felt the whole time when he’d broadcasted alone. The fear of leaving his listeners alone, the need to be company for those fighting for something during the dark of night—he finally understood. With an unwavering voice; “That was ‘Starboy’ by The Weeknd, followed by ‘High and Dry’ by Traces! I hope you like it. How are you guys doing?”

12th of July 2019

Panting, Jeongjin ran towards Youngsoo’s ward. His chest was heaving heavily. He opened the door to his room. The clean scent of disinfectant filled his lungs. Cold wind from the whirring air conditioner blew his hair, dried up the sheen of perspiration on his shin. He walked closer to Youngsoo, who was reading a newspaper, clad in a hospital gown, left arm cast. Jeongjin couldn’t help but notice the small flower with rainbow petals drawn upon it—must be Haeseong’s work.

Youngsoo looked up just before Jeongjin hugged him ever so gently.

The former quickly recovered from his shock, head buried in Jeongjin’s chest, and answered the embrace, wrapping his arms around Jeongjin’s small waist, fisting the clothes on his back. He felt so warm even though he was still numb from the effect of anaesthesia from last night that had not fully worn out.

Hot liquid dripped on his shoulders, absorbed into the thin fabric of his top, wetting his bare skin beneath. Jeongjin’s back began to quiver.

“No, no—hey, don’t cry,” Youngsoo whispered into his ears.

“Dumbass,” Jeongjin said, his voice muffled against Youngsoo’s nape. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Rubbing circles onto Jeongjin’s back, Youngsoo stayed silent. A watery smile then trembled on his lips. “I’m okay,” he said, pulling Jeongjin impossibly closer. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. Sorry I made you stay alone… I’m sorry.”

Jeongjin lifted his head, his big eyes rimmed red and glossy with tears, his button nose flushed. “What got into you I thought that you were a good driver,” he choked out so quickly that the words ran into each other.

“I’m still a good driver… It’s just that I had a cold. I got a headache, got distracted,” Youngsoo said. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again I promise.” Tepid tears trickled down his cheeks, too.

“Could’ve told me that.”

“I could’ve done that, I know, I’m sorry. Thank you… Thank you for not leaving them. Minjoon told me you chose to stay. Thank you, I’ll never leave you alone anymore.”

“Yeah, don’t, please.” Jeongjin laughed, though it sounded hoarse and wet. “I love you. Don’t do dumb shit.”

Youngsoo cupped Jeongjin’s cheeks and shook his head in wonder, awe, gratitude. “I don’t know why you love me, but I love you, too.”

“Hey, here’s the ra—Oh, hello, Jeongjin!” greeted Aeji, arms full of cup noodles. He was setting down the paper cups of instant ramen on the cabinet. “Youngsoo was complaining about how bland the breakfast was, so.”

“Oh, Jeongjin’s here already?” Minjoon’s voice piped in. He walked in with plastic bags filled with sweets. “Here, I brought snacks. Maybe it’s too much for the four of us… bought them with Haeseong in mind, though.”

“I’m grateful,” Youngsoo told them, told Jeongjin as he turned to tuck Jeongjin’s damp locks behind his ears. His smile was tender, trembling no longer with guilt, rather with unimpeded uncontrollable joy. “Thank you.”

“Me, too.”