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part I/IV (1/2)

gentle bones jongbuttbutt 618130K 2023-11-02

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[Come away now, gentle bonesThe winds will take us home.]

I remember a path, it's not a particularly spectacular path, in fact it's unexciting for the most part. It leads towards the older part of town, bare concrete snaking between a large field on the right and something unexceptional on the left. I don't remember much of the left, because that is where I usually stand. So most of the time I'm looking towards the large field at the sunset.

I am walking with someone. In my memories. I'm walking on the left and someone is on my right. But every time I try to remember who it is, all I see is the sun. It doesn't feel like I'm there. Instead it feels like I'm walking with a certain stirring within me that tells me it's a dream. It's a dream and I can wake up anytime I want. All I have to do is shut my eyes tight. Many times I feel like shutting my eyes. I want to wake up because it feels like I'm watching myself from afar. I'm watching the world like a movie from the cheap seats of the theatre and reality is being fed to me reel by reel. My peripheral vision limited by rows of other people in front of me and by the thick velvet curtains that frame the screen. I'm a little too far off to the side.

We walk and we reach the older part of town. At least that's what I assume it is. The field disappears behind some buildings and the backdrop of the left is now a mirror image of the right. We stop at a bus stop and we sit. I'm on the left again. Suddenly certain things become vivid- there's more depth now. I can feel the texture of the gravel beneath my shoes and I can hear buses arriving, then leaving just as quickly. But the world beyond that is still ambiguous, like it's hastily drawn out in my mind. It changes from time to time, a building turns into a row of houses, that turns into an empty lane, then it becomes a park.

But the steady warmth beside me doesn't change. And no matter how I want to will myself to wake up, to find myself safely back in the theatre, I don't want to lose that feeling. A bus arrives and we are standing now, the person to my right looks at me and I think I remember a smile, and I know it's a beautiful one. It's familiar and the warmth fills my bones. Suddenly the me sitting in the theatre disappears, and I'm fully here in the bus stop. I can feel the wind against my skin. It could have been raining. It doesn't matter.

All that matters is I feel at home.

-------

Himchan looks out the window that has somehow almost always reminded him of the holes on a belt. He watches as the wing of the plane tilts and points towards the emerging ground below. The city lights of South Korea spreads out like the lines on his palm. They are still comfortably high up in the sky, it might take two hours before they reach the airport. He takes out the folded piece of paper, feeling the aged texture beneath his fingers. He unfolds it and feels the weight of the world against his fingertips as he brushes the subtle dip of the words on the paper.

To my baby, our past,

and his future.

And to myself, forgotten.

He folds the piece of paper and puts it in an envelope. He sends it when he returns to Korea.

[As we watch our lives pass from the cheap seats,

I’ll write you all the love in the world on this crumpled piece of paper.

I hope it’s enough because it’s all I have in exchange for some affection.]

Himchan gets the call in the night.

He starts his car and drives fast, it isn't until he stops at the red light that he realises his hands are shaking. He clenches his fists against the steering wheel and tries to breathe.

Himchan stops in front of door 59 a gust of air rushes to greet him as it opens. He walks esitently towards the bed.

The man lies still in the bed, surrounded by plastic tubes and a mask that kept him breathing. The monotonous beeping rang out throughout the room and Himchan catches his breath in case it somehow upsets the balance in the room and the beeping would stop. But it doesn't, and no matter how he closes his eyes shut and opens them again the room remains the same. The name atop the patient's bed doesn't change.

Jung Daehyun has always been beautiful. Back when they were still young and stupid, he had been beautiful. And now even with half his face hidden, even with abrasions up the side of his face, he is beautiful.

"I'm so sorry baby..." Himchan threads careful fingers through Daehyun's hair, voice coming out hoarse through the tears, "I'm so so sorry."

"SHOTS ALL AROUND!"

Someone screams and the club explodes into cheers. Everyone reeks of alcohol and people have started to dance on the tables. The club is a mess barely two hours into the faculty party. Himchan is high, his eyes are glazed over and his mind is desperately trying to come up with the right words to describe the dancing lights reflected against the glass in his hand.

There is a faint shuffling by his side, rounds of 'excuse me's going off before he makes it to Himchan's side. Himchan looks up and sees the boy- that boy from the cemetery. His lips are moving but his voice is drowned out by the music. He leans in closer to Himchan and the latter can only hope he isn’t blushing, "can we go somewhere else? To talk?"

Yes.

And Himchan thinks it's beautiful- that of all the people in the world, it had to be him. It had to be him that was being led by the wrist away from the throbbing club by the most beautiful boy in the world.

He thinks it’s beautiful when he loses himself in the boy’s sheets again that night and he feels something within him rekindle. He would deny this in the morning, but at that moment it doesn’t matter. He is safe.

He writes a poem during lectures the next day. Reconstructing the previous night on paper. Himchan sees the boy in the world around him, the sun against his skin, the wind in his hair and the memory finds permanence in words. He returns to the memory once in a while, and he continues to find himself in the boy’s sheets, while the boy himself lives in the pages of his book. He doesn’t speak of him in the day when everyone’s watching and his mother is expecting him to bring that girl home, the one he kisses in the morning. He feels braver after each memory and in time he allows himself to title his poems. He calls the first one Jung Daehyun.

Himchan thinks it's some sort of sick joke that Daehyun is washed up on his shores, barely alive. He takes the wet cotton ball and dabs it on Daehyun's lips, constantly checking for the rise and fall of his chest. Then he prays to whoever, whatever that the monitors will not stop beeping.

Himchan has never liked hospitals. The sterile smell mixes in with the faint hint of wet food that lingers in the cold and it makes him sick to the bones. He gets frustrated and scared by people rushing here and there- the people who know what's going on. Himchan doesn't. But he knows it can never be a good thing and he can't help it.

He's awaken by a tap on his shoulders and it is then Himchan realizes he had fallen asleep. The hospital closes in on him again and the world resumes.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you sir," Himchan notices the mild frustration on the nurse's face and he doesn't look at all sorry, "but I have some administrative stuff to settle with you if you don't mind."

Himchan nods and stands, smoothing strands of his hair in place.

"My name is Yoo Youngjae and I'm the nursing intern attached to this ward. May I know your relationship with the patient?" Youngjae's smile is slight and stood in contrast with the crease of his brows and the 'pleased to provide you with excellent service' badge on his chest.

"I'm a friend." Himchan says and he tries to ignore the skepticism on Youngjae's face.

"Alright. Does Mr. Jung have any relatives we can contact? Parents perhaps?" Youngjae has an annoying habit of clicking his pen.

"No." Himchan watches as Youngjae's lips press into a fine line.

"Okay... Thank you for your time Mister-" Youngjae leaves the last word having as a question.

"Himchan. Just call me Himchan."

Youngjae nods again, expression visibly relaxed as he bows and exits the room.

---

Himchan recalls a story he read when he was younger about a boy who sinks into a coma and wakes up in another world in which darkness grows around him like trees. It's a strange story and Himchan hopes Daehyun isn't going through anything quite as harrowing as the boy in the story. Himchan doesn't remember much of the story but he knows the boy wakes up eventually, so he clings to that.

That his boy would wake up and come back to him.

-----

"Hey! You're still here." Himchan hears the door click from behind him and the man enters the room with a file. Himchan nods and offers a polite smile as he steps aside to allow space for Youngjae.

"His condition is stable now. It's just..." And Youngjae trails off, making a vague gesture with his free hand as he struggles to find a subtle way to put it.

"We have to wait for him to wake up."

Himchan quotes Youngjae's words from a day ago when they had just met

He nods, "you should get some rest." And Himchan says he will. But youngjae sees him in the hospital too much.

"Mr. Jung is lucky." Youngjae says ambiguously, eyes trained on the vase-full of daisies on the side table. Himchan wants to ask him what exactly it is he means but there's a beeper on Youngjae that goes off and he pulls a mask to cover the lower half of his face. He smiles and it shows in his eyes, "gotta go, the other patients need me." And he disappears, leaving Himchan to be swallowed by the soft humming of the air conditioning.

"My son isn't- Tell me you aren't, Himchan. Tell me you're normal. Please."

His mother is crying as she shuts the door behind her, leaving his father shouting profanities in the living room. He isn't going to help with the situation, but no matter how much his mother tries, she can't either. Himchan is crying too as he tries to forget everything. Forget that he's in his room. Forget his attraction towards this one boy in class, the one with the dark, short hair and glasses. Forget how he always wanted to take his glasses off his face and stare into his eyes. Forget that he had kissed him, and forget the bad reaction he got after.

"Tell me what your teacher told me isn't true, Himchan. Tell me son. Tell me you're normal!" His mother is begging and he hates to see her like this- He has never seen her like this. Himchan wants to run away as he tucks his body further into himself. He's screaming, and the noise makes his head explode.

It isn't true. Himchan screams. I'm normal, I'm normal, I'm normal.

He feels arms around him and he's in his mother's embrace. He shakes, body torn by sobs. He tries to breathe but it comes out ragged. He tries to convince himself he's telling the truth.

I'm normal, I'm normal, I swear I'm normal

The hospital is alive.

The symbiosis of patients and doctors keeps it breathing. Himchan can hear its heartbeat, quick and strong during the early hours or the morning and he isn't part of it. So he watches as it swallows him alive.

Himchan has his hand around Daehyun’s and his mind wrapped around a memory. Himchan has run out of things to say to Daehyun. All he can offer are repeated ‘sorry’s and ‘I love you’s. It’s almost two days after the accident, the flowers by Daehyun’s bed have assumed a sad-looking droop.

Daehyun stirs in his sleep.

He is walking blindly in the dark. Everything is black and darkness is growing around him like trees. He doesn’t know where he’s going anymore but he wants to get out. And then there’s a ball of light. A flickering on the earth beneath his feet. And Daehyun follows behind its little dance. He runs after it and he’s breathless, the static whips against his body and he wants to scream past the deafening rush by his ears. He feels like he’s drowning when suddenly the ball of light explodes and he’s engulfed in light. It takes him a while to get accustomed to the light, he sees it even with his eyes closed, swimming in the form of little threads and bright spots behind his eyelids. Daehyun is on a path, bare concrete bleached white and there’s a field a little over to his right. He looks back and the darkness disappears. The path seems familiar and he’s led forward by intuition. He walks and walks and there seems to be no end, like the path never runs out. Daehyun is running again, he feels the crunch of gravel beneath his feet and the cold against his skin. He hears something in the distance and he stops. Someone is calling his name and Daehyun closes his eyes and wills himself to listen.

Daehyun. Daehyun. Daehyun.

The voice sounds urgent now, it's growing closer and suddenly everything around him is swirling. The ground beneath him gives way and he's falling, he wants to open his eyes but he's afraid. This must really be the end. Daehyun thinks and at that moment he hears the voice again-

Daehyun please. Please wake up.

Daehyun opens his eyes before the fall, but he feels the impact of the contact nonetheless. The air is knocked from his chest and he struggles to breathe. The white light disappears behind his eyes, taking with it the darkness. Everything is a blur and someone is shaking his shoulders.

"Daehyun wake up! Daehyun!"

It's that voice from before and everything becomes solid. There are needles in his hand and the machine beeps quicker as he regains consciousness. He’s in a bed and there are people around him. The owner is holding onto Daehyun’s shoulders.

Daehyun panics.

He tears the mask off his face, where am I? He says and he sits up on the bed.

“Calm down, Mr Jung. You’re in the hospital. You were in a car accident. You have been asleep for two days.”

Daehyun feels the cotton sheets beneath his fingers. He’s here now. He’s here and his head is hurting, the needles in his arm are real and he feels the tautness of his skin there.

“Daehyun?”

The voice says again and Daehyun looks up to see a man about his age looking at him, there are tears brimming in his eyes and Daehyun wonders if he’s part of the hospital staff. Daehyun looks at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. He had been in an accident, that’s what the doctor said. Where? How? Why? Had he been drinking too much?

“Daehyun? It’s me.”

The man says, and a smile pulls at the corner of his lips and the smile fades when Daehyun’s frown deepens.

“It’s me, Himchan.”

Who are you? Daehyun says, suddenly afraid as the world explodes into a cacophony around him, leaving him buried under the rubble of the silence from before.

You know me, Daehyun. The man is visibly shaken as Daehyun shakes his head. You know me. You know me. You know me, Daehyun.

Daehyun presses his palms to his ears and shuts his eyes. The world around him has gotten too large. He doesn’t know the man. He knows him as the voice from his dreams.

One of the nurses ushers Himchan out of the room and Himchan lets her. She waits until the door shuts before she speaks.

“I think maybe we should take this slowly, Mr Jung just woke up so he might be in a bit of a shock. Let’s hope it wears off a little while later. Maybe you can sit out here for a while.”

In the evening Himchan finds himself in the same room. Everything has changed in the room, and Daehyun sits up on the bed in the middle of it all, he’s fiddling with the corner of his blanket, his brown hair sticking up in tufts from beneath the bandage. Daehyun is looking at him with that same expression, like he’s seeing Himchan for the very first time and the latter tries to convince himself that this is only temporary. Himchan stops in front of the bed and they look at one another. Daehyun opens his mouth to speak but bites down on his lips just as quickly. Daehyun’s eyes are warm sepia, they only ever appear brown in the sun, which now filters through the blinds in streaks. Daehyun is looking straight into Himchan’s eyes and his heart stops. There are butterflies in his stomach- those are the usual- he has gotten so used to them living in his system when Daehyun had been around. Everything stills and Himchan’s mind is running through it all, he tries to calm himself, think of something, anything. He thinks of the day’s headlines. A playground from the mid-fourties has been demolished. The playground near a cemetery. There’s going to be a new establishment in its place, it’s strange, but the renovation starts in a week. There’s a picture included in the newspapers and Himchan tries to imagine that he’s there instead, on the carousel.

He’s sitting on a bench outside the hospital, the skies are darkening, rainclouds rolling in from a distance.

“Hey! Why’d you do that? Mr Jung looked pretty shocked, I’ll give you that.” Youngjae is short of breath from making the sprint from the hospital stairs to the bench and he still manages to laugh.

“I don’t know.” Himchan says, he smiles at Youngjae’s amusement, the boy had a strange sense of humour. He could have told Youngjae the truth, that he’s afraid, so he ran. You spend your whole life loving someone and now he cracks his skull and looks at you like it’s the very first time he’s meeting you. But Himchan knows if he says anymore, he’ll break down.

“He knocked his head up pretty bad. We’ll take this one step at a time. We’ll put him through therapy, see how much he’s forgotten and hopefully he’ll remember again.” Youngjae has his hands in the pockets of his scrubs, his fingers toying with something behind the fabric.

“It’s not easy. But maybe you can try and find a way to help him remember?” Youngjae takes something out of his pocket and holds it towards Himchan. It’s a flower, the petals, now slightly curled like a sad bow towards the earth. “It’s the flowers you put beside Mr. Jung’s bed. Saved one before they removed them.” Himchan takes the flower from Youngjae’s hand and looks curiously at the boy.

I’ve read somewhere that daisies represent hope.

Himchan thinks about what Youngjae says as the flower lies on his lap. It’s raining by the time Himchan gets home and he presses the daisy into his leather-bound notebook.

“Do you love me, Himchan?”

“Yes.”

Himchan is seventeen and he’s looking at the most gorgeous girl in school. He knows she’s beautiful, she’s funny too and Himchan enjoys her company. They’re in his dormitory, it looks relatively clean now that he has kicked whatever laundry and stray stationery that lay on the floor under his bed. “Yes,” Himchan says, a little louder than before.

“Then show me.”

Himchan wants to. He loves her. He’s been spending so much time with her, she’s been there for him and him for her. He does love her, he does. So he closes the distance between them and kisses her, tenderly at first but she wants more. Much, much more and soon they are lying on the bed, their clothes strewn all over the place. She has her lips on his collarbone and he closes his eyes.

“I want you to make love to me.” She murmurs against his skin and he shuts his eyes tighter.

“Himchan.”

It starts to sound like a command more than anything.

I can’t, Himchan says. I can’t.

---

Daehyun wakes up in the morning to find an envelope underneath his pillow. He unfolds the piece of paper and reads,

Fuck the authority!

Daehyun raises a brow at that, the completely random sentence that’s written on one side of the paper. He turns it over,

That’s it, those were the exact words you said to me when I first saw you. The first time we met was in the first year of Middle school. We never spoke during the course of Middle School. You got transferred out halfway anyway because you got into too much trouble. You were screaming at the top of your lungs as you skateboarded past me down the halls. Anything with wheels was banned in the corridors, but you didn’t really have a thing for rules. But you weren’t so smug when you had detention. I told on you because I was the prefect. It was cold out that day, and you had to clean all the classrooms on the ground floor. You were so terribly slow, and it was getting late. I took pity on you. You looked really sad then (I’m sorry), you had these big glasses and braces and you couldn’t close your mouth very well because of all the metal in your mouth. I told your friend to tell you the teachers said you could leave.

I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but the teacher never said anything like that.

You are Jung Daehyun. You’re twenty one going on twenty two now.

And I’m Kim Himchan, twenty three.

That night Daehyun recites Himchan’s name over and over again before he falls asleep. But no matter how he allows himself to be washed along the ebb and flow of Kim-Him-Chan, the tides return him to shore and the only thing he remembers is the pain on Himchan’s face when he walks out the room.

---

Daehyun is lying on the hospital bed, there’s a doctor taking notes beside him. His pencil scrapes against the paper and Daehyun cranes his neck to see what he’s writing, but the writing stops and the doctor turns his attention back to Daehyun.

“So Mr. Jung, tell me about yourself.”

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