23 (1/1)

23 Kyuhyun sat on Ryeowook’s bed, watching as Ryeowook moved to and fro between the closet and the capacious luggage propped against the wall. The closet was nearly empty by now, save for the hangers and the few pieces Ryeowook had decided would be incongruous in France. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Kyuhyun said, wrapping his arms around Ryeowook’s pillow and propping his chin on the softness. The pillow smelled of Ryeowook’s shampoo, lemony and refreshing. Ryeowook sat down on the floor before the teeming luggage and crossed his legs. He cocked his head quizzically at Kyuhyun. “I mean you leaving for France.” “Oh.” Ryeowook’s hands paused over a neat stack of clothes. “I guess it can’t be avoided.” Ryeowook mumbled, turning to tinker with the contents in the luggage again. “Four years.” Kyuhyun sighed, free-falling backwards onto the bed. “That’s a long time.” “Three,” Ryeowook piped hopefully. “If everything goes well.” “It’s still long,” Kyuhyun mumbled, so softly that he was certain the whirring ceiling fan had dispersed his words. Kyuhyun rolled onto his side, his eyes falling on the wooden music box on Ryeowook’s bedside table and the thick brown envelope beside it. The corner of the envelope bears the intricate crest of the college Ryeowook would be attending for the next four years - hopefully three - years of his life. The envelope, bearing the college’s acceptance of Ryeowook to their doctorate music program on a fully-funded scholarship, arrived in the mailbox two weeks following their official graduation from Inha. He had been genuinely happy for Ryeowook. But when reluctance encroached, the celebratory mood was shadowed with a heaviness he couldn’t waive. Ryeowook was moving to France, alone, when the furthest he had ever travelled to was Jeju. “Ryeowook is a grown-up man perfectly capable of taking care of himself,” Kyuhyun had told himself multiple times. But still, it didn’t make Kyuhyun feel less like a guardian who finally had to relinquish his responsibility over his ward and let him venture into a world where light and darkness made up equal parts, where you can’t walk in one without encountering the other. Kyuhyun sat up in the bed and reached for the music box. The intricate engravings carved into the lacquered surface were just as his fingers had remembered. He had custom-made the music box as a present for Ryeowook’s twenty-first birthday. When opened, a carved row of musical symbols would rise and fall in synchrony to the tinkle of ‘Memories in Breeze’, a piece Ryeowook had composed in tribute to their friendship. He padded to Ryeowook and plopped down beside him. He wedged the music box into a safe corner of the packed luggage, where it would be best protected from any impact. “Take this with you,” he said. “It’s my embodiment just in case you miss home.” “I was planning to put it inside my hand carry,” Ryeowook said. “Take this too.” Kyuhyun ignored Ryeowook’s comment and reached for the framed photo - fourteen year-old them smiling brightly on a backdrop of mountains serrating the sky - on the study desk. He slotted it right in the midpoint of a stack of clothes. “Look at it often and think of me.” “I’ve a photo of us in my wallet already.” “Just put it on your new desk or something. Bring more of those as well,” Kyuhyun nudged his chin at the sweatshirt Ryeowook was folding, “I heard it can get really cold in Paris.” “Okay, I’ll bring every single piece I have.” There was a ghost of a smile on Ryeowook’s lips. “Pack some kimchi with you too. They’re a rare commodity in France.” A random fact he had acquired when he had been googling about France last week came to his mind: “And speaking about food, don’t eat the foie gras while you’re there. They are called the Delicacy of Despair for a reason. The way they harvest it from the geese is cruel.” “I’ll be a vegetarian there. Anything else?” Amusement had curving Ryeowook’s eyes into bright crescents. “God,” Kyuhyun slapped a palm to his own forehead, “I feel - don’t laugh - like your mother.” “It’s rather nice to have a mother fussing over me,” Ryeowook joked. The subject of mothers had always been a thorn embedded in Ryeowook’s flesh. But before a friend who knew and accepted every little thing about you for the past ten years, pain and losses become topics that can be touched upon without inducing the feelings of pain and loss. “I’ll gladly be your mother, if it means that I can make it to the airport to send you off.” Kyuhyun’s face had soured. “I know you’d be there if you could.” “Why don’t I postpone my interview so - ” “No,” Ryeowook said, a single syllable so firm that Kyuhyun dispelled all related notions. The last thing he needed was a farewell on a bad note. “That firm has been your goal for so long.” “Then call me once you reach there,” Kyuhyun bargained. “I will.” “And call me whenever you need me. Time difference doesn’t exist between us,” Kyuhyun added. He wondered if his throat was constricting because he was thirsty, and if his eyes were stinging because of the afternoon sunlight slanting into the room. Ryeowook nodded. “I’ll look out for your father too.” Kyuhyun recalled a conversation last week where Ryeowook had admitted that he was worried how his father would cope without him. “I’ll call him frequently to ensure that everything’s all right. If I get the job and have to move to Seoul - keeping my fingers crossed - I’ll ask my mum to drop by every now and then to make sure he’s doing well. So, Ryeowook, just focus on taking good care of yourself when you’re in France and don’t worry about anything back here.” “Don’t start crying,” Kyuhyun warned when tears started to well in Ryeowook’s eyes. “You can’t be such a crybaby anymore now that you’re going to France alone.” Ryeowook nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Thank you so much, Kyu. Thank you for being so supportive.” “God knows how much I hate to see you go.” Kyuhyun said, stretching his hand to ruffle Ryeowook’s hair. The soft strands between his fingers expanded his reluctance into a sea that threatened to drown him. “But I’ll hate it even more if you stop pursuing your dreams. You’re so alive when you’re on the piano.” “Thank you,” Ryeowook said again. There were tears in his voice. “I’ll miss you so much.” I’m missing you already, Kyuhyun thought, but did not say. :::::::::: Three days after the final interview, the law firm called Kyuhyun to confirm his employment when he was sending his playstation for repair at the shopping centre. When the professional voice announced the news that moved him a step closer to his dreams, he had to repress the urge to throw a triumphant fist into the air. He paid the deposit and left the shopping centre, grinning as if he had the whole world at his fingertips. He headed in the direction of home, the grocery list his mother had written him that day forgotten in his pocket. Within minutes, he was back in his neighbourhood. He walked past the street that turned into his house, heading two streets down instead. Ryeowook’s house loomed ahead, and he wondered if Ryeowook was at home. He could - Ryeowook had gone to France. A voice whispered from the back of his head. His sneakers ground against the asphalt as he came to a halt. His shoulders slumped as a wave of dejection swept over him. He shook his head and turned on his heels. He plodded back in the direction he came from, his footsteps losing their lighthearted spring. Sometimes, it was just too easy to forget Ryeowook had left. Kyuhyun went straight to his room once he was home, ignoring his mother’s call from the kitchen to sample her latest gastronomic invention. “What about the soya sauce I’ve told you - ” He closed the bedroom door, barricading his mother’s voice. The springs creaked when he threw himself onto the bed. He brought an arm over his forehead as he stared at the whitewashed ceiling. Like many times before this, he waited for the boulder lodged in his chest to diffuse, for his breaths to return to their normal cadence again. It was during moments like this - moments where he had something to share - that Ryeowook’s absence would catch him off-guard, socking him in the guts so unexpectedly and powerfully that it knocked the wind out of him. “5625.71 miles,” he murmured, the distance between France and South Korea prying its way to the front of his mind. Technology could bridge 5625.71 miles easily, but only if people wanted to use it, and Ryeowook felt like one of those who didn’t. The only call Kyuhyun had ever received from Ryeowook was the day he landed in Paris. It had been a hurried phone call amidst the background noise of people speaking and shouting in unintelligible languages. For the next six weeks, updates about Ryeowook came in the form of sporadic emails composed with sparse sentences. There were only six emails so far, six emails which totalled to less than twenty sentences. Kyuhyun had called the string of numbers Ryeowook had given him and out of all times, Ryeowook only answered once. It was yet another hurried phone call; they had barely gotten past the exchange of ‘hellos’ before the stern calls of a raspy man’s voice whisked Ryeowook off, killing all of Kyuhyun’s delight. Kyuhyun climbed out of his bed and walked to the computer, pulling the chair out of his desk. The screen blinked to life with a swipe of the mouse. He logged in to his mailbox, unable to ignore the disappointment that dug into him when there were no new mails from Ryeowook waiting like presents to be opened. He began to compose a new email: Hi Ryeowook Remember the law firm I’ve told you about? Well they have the foresight to finally offer me the job. I reckon I’m halfway to becoming the best defence lawyer in Seoul. The interview process was brutal though. You won’t believe how they grilled me with their (unfriendly) questions. Maybe you should call me soon so I can fill you with the details?  Things are good back here. Hope all is safe in Paris too.  P.S.: The last time we really talked was before you left. A lot has happened since then. I hope you haven’t forgotten me. Your best friendKyuhyun Kyuhyun climbed back into his bed after hitting the ‘Send’ button. He wondered how long it would take for Ryeowook to reply, and if Ryeowook would finally grant his wish and call. Eventually his thoughts became a haze that carried him into the realm of sleep. It was the heat that woke him up. It was hours since dinner and the sky beyond his window had darkened. The room was stuffy with summer sweat and the shirt he had worn to sleep clung to his skin. His stomach grumbled as he sat up. He hoped his mother had left him food. He reached for his phone to check if he had missed any calls from Ryeowook. Then he padded to the his computer to check his mailbox. No missed calls. No new emails. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore. He twisted the knob on his standing fan in a staccato of clicks and the blades started to spin at their full blast. He stood before the window for a while, wondering if Ryeowook could see the moon from his side, if that would somehow bring the distance between them any closer. Then he remembered it was daytime on Ryeowook’s side. He curled on the bed and stared at the ceiling once again - something which he had gotten used to doing in the past six weeks. Maybe he would soon get used to this cycle of alternating hopes and disappointment, too. “You’re making me behave as if I’ve some kind of separation anxiety,” he mumbled into his pillow, hating himself for feeling like a handicap just because Ryeowook was gone. The sky had lightened by the time he fell into a fitful sleep plagued by the nightmare that Ryeowook had finally erased him from his life. :::::::::: Ryeowook finally called a month after the email was sent, two weeks after Kyuhyun moved to Seoul, and three days after Kyuhyun started work. The call came at the most inopportune time, where Kyuhyun was attending his first-ever departmental meeting, listening to a presentation by a senior lawyer and trying to fight his lunch-induced drowsiness all at the same time. The cloud of sleepiness evaporated when the massive mahogany table quaked with a guttural buzz. He had begrudgingly thought that it was one of his colleagues’ phone, until the bubblegum-pop song of his favourite girl group spilled to fill the space, drowning the drone of the senior lawyer. Heads were beginning to turn in his direction. He scrambled up in his seat, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He fumbled with the phone to silence it, but all actions fled his limbs when Ryeowook’s name blinked on the screen. “ There are three options for you here.” the commanding voice of his boss (the one at the very top of the department hierarchy) jarred him from his daze. “Answer it, reject it, or chuck your phone out of the window. Choose one so we can get on with this meeting.” Kyuhyun scanned the table and saw that many of his colleagues looking at him, their faces painted with varying degrees of amusement. Kyuhyun mumbled an apology and pushed out of his chair. He strode past his colleagues and exited the meeting room, the phone still vibrating in his hand. He wove through the clusters of cubicles, earning the disapproving stares of several colleagues from other departments as the ringtone trailed behind him like an never-ending ribbon. With a turn into the innermost corner of the office, he burst into the pantry with such force that sent the tapered end of his tie flying over his shoulder. The last bit of his decorum made him sweep his eyes across the room to ensure that he was alone. Then he answered the phone and held it to his ear, yelling into it before he could stop himself. “Kim Ryeowook, of all the times you could have called during past two freaking months where I was lazing around and not doing much, you decided to choose a time where I’m having my first-ever departmental meeting with the boss I’m trying to impress. Are you doing this on purpose?” On the other end of the line, Ryeowook gasped. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you’re… do you want me to hang up now?” “No!” Kyuhyun said quickly, cringing at his desperation. “Just…” he waved in his arm in the air, as though to conjure the right word, “Just talk.” “Are you sure? I can call some other time if you want.” “Just talk,” Kyuhyun repeated, pacing to the window panes. The traffic looked barely bigger than ants from the 26th floor. There was a pause before Ryeowook spoke again, “I heard that you got the job in the law firm of your dreams.” “Just so you know, I’ve already started working in said law firm for three days.” Ryeowook voice was littered with careful pauses, as if he was a war tank manoeuvring on a minefield. “So I guess you’ve moved to Seoul?” “For two weeks already.” Kyuhyun couldn’t keep the bite out of his tone. “Go on. Continue to ask me the things you’ve missed out for the past two months.” “You’re angry with me,” Ryeowook stated. “Rightfully so.” Kyuhyun skimmed a hand across the velvety leaves of the plant sitting on the window sill. “Just try stupidly waiting for someone to finally call for two months.” “I’m sorry,” Ryeowook said. “I… I was just really busy settling down here and getting familiarised with the surroundings and meeting new people.” “So that you can forget the old ones?” Kyuhyun accidentally tore a particular leaf he was toying. “I bet the new people are the reason you didn’t even have the decency to reply to the emails I sent, much less to call.” “You know that’s not true. I’ve always wanted to call you, but… Kyuhyun, I know you’ve every right to be upset but please, don’t do this to me. Don’t be angry with me.” The hard armour of disgruntlement Kyuhyun had vowed to not easily divest disintegrated at the hurt in Ryeowook’s voice. Kyuhyun relented, and for the first time, he realised how much he had missed Ryeowook’s voice. His voice was a comforting strand of familiarity in the childhood city that had turned foreign in the ten years he had moved to Incheon. “So…” Kyuhyun softened, his voice losing the sharp edges it had a moment ago. “How’s everything in Paris right now?” He could hear a whisper of relief on the other end before Ryeowook spoke. “It’s a beautiful city. Nothing beats home though. Don’t you need to get back to your meeting? Should I hang up?” “Don’t you dare,” Kyuhyun nearly snarled, jolting Ryeowook into silence once again. “I’ve already offended my boss because of you.” “I’m sor - ” “I don’t need your sorries. But you can make it up to me by telling me everything that’d happened during the time you were away. Everything.” “Are you sure it’s okay - ” “You’re fuelling my displeasure again.” And that was enough for Ryeowook to do as he was asked to. He told Kyuhyun about the strict professor who had impossibly high expectations of his students, the ambrosial pastries from the bakery just across his apartment, the hospitable neighbours who had invited him to a dinner during his very first week there. He talked about the vast differences between Seoul and Paris and along the lines of comparison, Kyuhyun detected the homesickness carefully tucked away. Kyuhyun relented more; Ryeowook wasn’t exactly having it easy. In turn, Kyuhyun talked about his new life in Seoul. He complained about the sky-high property prices in the capital, raved about the pretty girls in his office, and admitted the stress that rode along with the perks of being a lawyer in the nation’s most prestigious firm. He also assured Ryeowook that his father was well. Word by word, sentence by sentence, the gap between them was filled, and the distance between Seoul and Paris was traversed. The long awaited phone call returned them to the same footing again, reminding them that their place in each other’s life was never lost. Three hours later, Kyuhyun found himself in the tranquil park a mile away from his office building, having strolled out when a succession of colleagues caught him ‘skiving’ in the pantry. He would put in his delayed request for leave-of-absence when he get back to the office later. His boss’ displeasure was guaranteed, but if it meant that he got to chat with Ryeowook, it was well worth it. Even though the phone burned his ear, it was with great reluctance when he had to hang up. Before the call was disconnected, Ryeowook promised that he would call once a week, and if Kyuhyun ever called, he would try his best to answer. Kyuhyun inhaled deeply after he hung up, and when he exhaled, a smile found its way to his lips. He rolled his shoulders, his smile broadening. The weight that had been there since Ryeowook’s departure vanished, and he could freely breathe again. TBC :::::::::: A/N: An update may not be possible next week because I’ll be gone. I’ll try my best though, cos’ I’m already falling behind the schedule for this story. I hope you guys continue to stick with me through this story. We’re nearly at the halfway mark. :)