Jungsuk opened his eyes with difficulty and squinted at the bright sunlight, that filtered through the window from behind the fully open curtains. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and grimaced, as he got out of bed. He was surrounded by familiar walls, but it didn't look like they're with Jonghyong New York house. The young man looked around slowly, trying to comprehend, what was happening. A little further from the bed was a small computer table with a lot of folders and a pile of papers. On the top shelf boxes of disks were arranged in a neat row. Opposite the bed, on the dresser was a fairly large diagonal TV set, which seemed completely unintended for a small room. On the other side of the room, in a corner, was an old easel. Looking more closely, Jungsuk recognized his own image on the canvas. This is a portrait, that Jonghyong drew about a decade ago when their relationship was just beginning to develop. Jungsuk smiled faintly, when he remembered, how wild the awkwardness experienced Jonghyong, cost senior to reveal his little secret. Junior's ears burned, and his cheeks flushed, like a ripe tomato. He was so funny in his embarrassment, but also so sexy in his innocent youth. But Jonghyong's talent was beyond praise. Jungsuk remembered, how long and carefully he had stared at the portrait, as if it were an exact copy of himself, running his fingers dazedly over the canvas. It was like looking in a mirror. Every line, every curve, every detail of his face was carefully and carefully reflected on the canvas. Junior literally put his soul into this portrait. His outline at the very beginning was almost an exact copy of Park, while Jonghyong was not satisfied with his work. According to him, it did not reflect the degree of beauty and power of senior's aura, that he felt in person.
Jungsuk suddenly wanted very much to come closer and touch his portrait, but as soon as he got closer, the outline of the image began to blur and disappear, gradually leaving behind a clean white canvas. Nothing seemed to happen. Jungsuk blinked, trying to clear his mind, but nothing changed. The canvas remained empty. The young man felt, how a chill run down his spine. He wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed the palms of his hands over his forearms, hoping to get rid of the unpleasant, deep-seated feeling inside him. Dumbfounded, Park looked around again and suddenly realized, where he was. He's in their old apartment in Busan. But how is this possible? After all, Jungsuk sold it immediately, after leaving for New York a few years ago. But he was absolutely certain, that this was the place. How did he get here? What did the hell happen?
Suddenly Jungsuk heard a muffled sound and started toward the kitchen on trembling legs. As soon as he entered, his feet froze to the floor, and his breathing seemed to slow dangerously. At the table sat… Jonghyong. Only he's about five years younger. He was whistling softly to himself, delving on the phone, and a steaming cup of hot coffee stood in front of him. The only thing, that the body of Jonghyong could perceive in the morning before a full breakfast. Jungsuk froze in place, scrutinizing the younger man. He was just as young and handsome, but somehow a few years younger, than he really was.
"Jonghyong?"
Jungsuk said his husband's name hesitantly, but the man continued to delving the phone, occasionally sipping coffee and smiling weakly. Jungsuk took a few steps toward him and tried again, "Jonghyong?"
Suddenly the younger man looked up and looked ahead, frowning, but then lowered his eyes to the screen again. He seemed completely unaware, that Jungsuk standing next to him. As if he were invisible in his eyes. Park struggled to control the shiver, that gripped him. He was shaking so violently with fear and incomprehension, that his teeth were chattering together, and the short hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
"Jonghyong-a!" Jungsuk was almost shouting, straining his vocal cords, but junior continued to ignore him. Jungsuk plucked up the courage, to come close and put his hand on Jonghyong's shoulder. But as soon as he did it, his hand went through the younger man's body. Jungsuk did not feel anything. Just emptiness. He raised his hand to the level of his face, eyes wide, and began to examine his own limb, as if it were something alien and heterogeneous. Is this possible? What the hell is going on here? What the fuck happened to him?
The questions remained unanswered, as did the man sitting next to him, who only shivered at the almost-touch of Jungsuk, as if from an Intrusive breeze. Jungsuk closed his eyes and shook his head. He must be asleep. Definitely, asleep. Because that was the only way, that to explain the bullshit, that was happening in front of his eyes.
"Jungsuk…"
Park's eyes widened sharply, and in the blink of an eye, he didn't see Jonghyong in front of him, as he had a second ago. The voice, that said his name, didn't sound friendly. And that only made it worse. Jungsuk looked around again for Jonghyong, who had just been present. But the only thing, he saw before his eyes, was an empty kitchen.
"Jungsuk…"
The voice called to him again. It would seem familiar. But Jungsuk could not remember, where he had heard it before, because of the fear, that had gripped his mind. Fear of the unknown.
Suddenly Jungsuk realized, that the room, in which he was, gradually dissolves before his eyes. Before the young man could blink, he was standing on a deserted highway. Jungsuk's breath came in short gasps, and his heart sank to his very heels. What the hell is going on with him? What kind of time travel is this? And where was he now? Looking around again, this time more frantically and hastily, Jungsuk noticed a road sign. It's the same highway, where he was driving to the apartment of Jonghyong. Suddenly a sharp pain shot through his head, and he fell to his knees, clutching his temples with both hands. Hazy images swam before eyes, and ears rang with rumbling sounds: the whiz of tires, the squeal of brakes, a car accident on the main highway. Jungsuk is on his knees in front of a car, that has flipped onto the roof, and tries to help a young female driver and her child. The last thing, that he saw, was a car flying at high speed and another unpleasant, ear-splitting whistle of car tires. A bright flash pierced his watery eyes, and Jungsuk opened them. His pulse was so fast, that it was possible to diagnose tachycardia. Hands were shaking and sweating, as continued to massage temples. Knees ached from the effort of keeping a wadded body on the wet road. The light continued to weigh heavily on his eyes, but now he could clearly see it a little further away. The bright flash grew stronger, forcing to squint and cover the face with a hand.
"Jungsuk…"
And that voice again. Jungsuk tried to make out the shape of a man's silhouette in a blinding flash of light, but he could see nothing, only except the white rays, pressing on his vision.
"Who are You?"
As he replayed the images of the accident, Jungsuk belatedly realized, that he must have been in the middle of the accident and might now be in the hospital, and it was all just a bad dream. A side effect of the painkiller. Projecting images, that the brain wants to see. Somewhat calmer, Jungsuk repeated his question, "Who are You? The doctor? Are You operating on me?"
The figure was silent in the light, that enveloped it, still bright, but now fainter and less blinding.
"Why I can't see You?" Jungsuk immediately gave himself a mental slap. Of course, he won't be able to see his doctor in his own opacification. He can hear his voice because he is under anesthesia. Maybe, he even is half-conscious, if he could make out the faint outline of it.
"You were in an accident, Jungsuk," the voice said suddenly, and Jungsuk automatically nodded in agreement.
"Yes… I think it was."
"Do you know, what's happening now?"
Jungsuk shifted from one foot to the other, feeling, that strange feeling again. Taking a deep breath, he tried to formulate a coherent response as much, as possible, when you couldn't see, who you were talking to.
"Yes, I must have hit my head hard, if I'm imagining things, like that," Jungsuk chuckled, but the other man didn't share his amusement. "So, am I right? You're my doctor, right?"
The light grew brighter again, and the seemingly relaxed Jungsuk tensed again, once again closing his eyes. When Park opened his eyes, he realized, that he was no longer standing on the highway at the scene of the accident. He saw a neatly trimmed green lawn in front of him. Their lawn. Just a few days ago they were mowing it down themselves, fooling around and running after each other like half-witted youths.
A light wind ruffled the brown hair of junior, and his face was a little pale from being at home so often, but his eyes were bright with joy. The young man laughed so carelessly and naturally, that Jungsuk's heart ached from the feelings, that filled him. After all, that Jonghyong had been through, Jungsuk had never expected to see him like this. But here he is, Jonghyong, smiling and laughing at the top of his voice, running away from his husband, like an immature boy, and then still allowing himself to be caught in the small, but no less strong arms of Jungsuk and knocked to the ground. Frequent and heavy breathing accompanies Jonghyong, and Jungsuk does not give him a break, kissing his eyebrows, eyes, nose, rosy cheeks, and such favorite lips. Park was ready to kiss his husband forever, without depriving attention of a single piece of his light and delicate skin, completely absorbing and dissolving in him himself. Jonghyong ran a hand through Jungsuk's dark blue hair, gently stroking the back of his head and pulling him slightly closer. It was one of the junior's favorite moments. His husband might be a real devil, but he was also an angel in the flesh. His hands could squeeze the body of Jonghyong, until the bones crunched, to terrible pain, leaving bruises and abrasions on sensitive skin, but also Jungsuk could be gentle and caring, stroking with his tiny fingers every line on the face of Jonghyong, running his index finger along the neck, going lower, stroking the halos of the nipples, slowly moving to the hollow of the navel, which made junior towards seemingly uncomplicated and easy caresses.
The sun was shining brightly in the sky, casting its rays on the surface of the earth, warming it with its own warmth. Jungsuk closed his eyes, trying to get his breath back from the rush of memories from the past and the unknown present, turning his face to the sun. He walked slowly into the house, and when he reached for the door handle, but it opened, as if by magic.
"So. This is not normal," Jungsuk shook his head, but still went inside and immediately met the dog, which ran to the door in an attempt to check on the intruder.
"Richie!" Jungsuk was delighted, when the dog wagged its tail enthusiastically, as came closer. He recognized his master. The dog's ears twitched when Jungsuk tried to stroke the bridge of his nose, but the young man's hand went through the flesh again.
"What the hell is this?!" Jungsuk swore, which startled the dog, who tucked tail and ran away, apparently thinking, that the owner was displeased with him. Jungsuk let out a long, tired sigh. At first, he thought, he was just sleeping from the effects of the anesthetic. But then why were his dreams so real? It was as if he was looking at his own life in regime "online" from the outside, as an outsider.
"Do you see me now?"
Jungsuk almost jumped in surprise, when a painfully familiar voice came from behind him. The outline of the male figure became more distinct, but still not clearly distinguishable: at this point, Jungsuk could make out, that the man was middle-aged, solidly built, fair-haired, and tall. But the face was still blurry.
"Doc, You're still not "in focus" enough," Jungsuk chuckled again at his own words. He seemed to be going mad.
"It will be clearer if you want," the man said and walked forward, skirting Jungsuk, touching him lightly with his hand. Jungsuk felt a slight breeze, sweep over the place, that the stranger had touched. The touch didn't feel unpleasant, and he didn't feel threatened. Just a little puzzled.
"Don't understand, how you were able to move so quickly from one place to another? Why were you home so soon?"
"Time doesn't work in dreams, does it, Doc?" Jungsuk followed the strangers more confidently, only later realizing, that they had entered the living room on the first floor of their with Jonghyong New York house.
Once in the room, Jungsuk's eyes widened in surprise. On a sofa in the center of the room sat Jonghyong, surrounded by Jungsuk's relatives. His father, mother, and brother sat beside Jonghyong, muttered anxiously, while Jungsuk's mother held Jonghyong's hand tightly, and Park's older brother lightly stroked junior's back.
Jungsuk came even closer and studied his husband. His face was swollen and red. The capillaries in his eyes were bursting, running small threads, like cobwebs, around the entire circumference. His lips were cracked and bleeding, so often and hard did he bite them. The young man's hair was in a terrible mess from the fact, that he constantly ruffled it with his hands as if trying to banish obsessive thoughts from his head. Jungsuk was worried or, more accurately, scared to death. This state of Jonghyong he only saw, when…
"You're dead, Jungsuk."
The words of the new acquaintance pierced Jungsuk, it seemed, through and through. He couldn't make sense of it. After all, the young man did not feel anything and does not remember anything: no pain, no fear, no sounds of medical devices, that support the remnants of life in him, when he was taken half-dead in an ambulance to the nearest hospital. Jungsuk felt nothing, but a terrible pain in the region of his heart at the sight of his grieving husband. That's why his parents and brother were here. This is the reason, why Jonghyong looks the way it does. Jungsuk couldn't believe, that this was happening to them. Right now, when their lives began to gradually improve and come back to normal.
"Doc," Jungsuk's voice was caught somewhere between the trachea and the throat, so the young man had to cough a little, to get his vocal cords back to normal… "I think, I would have understood, if I had died," though own words didn't match, what he was feeling. Until now he had been half-sure, that he was sleeping, or at least just under anesthesia. He couldn't even guess…
"It's hard to say," the man said, pacing the room, as if looking at it, "everyone's different."
None of his answers satisfied Jungsuk, much less answered any of the crazy questions, that poured into his aching head like a torrent.
"But if I…" Jungsuk had to gather his courage before he could utter the next words, "am I really dead, then should I be here? And why do I keep seeing everyone? Why Richie was able to see me as soon, as I entered?"
"Dogs aren't people. They see in multiple dimensions. You'll be here as long, as do not want to leave. I can't make you do this. Everyone has a choice. And you have to make your own."
Jungsuk shook his head, beginning to get annoyed. He didn't understand anything, that was going on. Various memories of the fantasy movies, they had watched with Jonghyong, began to creep into his head. And Jungsuk shuddered at the thought, which story would be more appropriate to his situation.
"Who are You? And why I can't see You, like everyone else?" Jungsuk turned back in the direction of their relatives. He could see them all clearly and accurately. But the only person, who had seen him, other than his beloved dog, he could not see.
"You don't want to see me. You don't want to be dead. You haven't fully realized, what happened to you yet. As soon as you accept this, everything will become clearer."
Jungsuk was distracted from his peculiar explanations by the faint voice of Jonghyong, which sounded like a bolt from the blue in the deathly silence of the room.
"I want, that You leave," he buried his face in his hands, and his shoulders shook with silent sobs.
"Jonghyong," Jungsuk's father tried to put his hand on his second son's shoulder, but Jonghyong suddenly jumped up from the sofa, shying away from relatives, and hugged himself, rubbing the place of touch, as if it burned him.
"I said, go away! Now! Leave me alone!"
Jungsuk flinched and instinctively put his hand on his chest in the area of his heart when Jonghyong screamed. Park's relatives got up from their seats and walked unsteadily toward the exit.
"If you want to talk or need anything just call."
Jungsuk closed his eyes, fighting back his own tears when he heard his brother's voice. Park couldn't imagine, what his family was feeling right now. But the worst part was, that he didn't even want to think about, what Jonghyong was feeling right now. Jungsuk felt as if he were suffocating, and his heart was clenched and bleeding. If that's even possible. He is… dead, isn't he? Is he even capable of feeling such things, or are they just echoes of his past experiences?
Jonghyong didn't even lock the door, when it slammed behind Park's relatives, cutting junior off from the world, leaving him alone in the huge house. Jonghyong moved around the room, darting erratically from side to side, like a trapped predator, unable to attack or defend himself. His hands ruffled his own hair, and his chest rose and fell with each heavy sigh.
Jungsuk started to move closer but was startled when Jonghyong threw a crystal ashtray from the table next to him into the wall. It shattered with a crash, shattering into chunks on the floor. But Jonghyong didn't seem to care. His shrill cry, followed by another torrent of hot, scalding tears, shook the room.
"Why?!" his voice trembled and resonated in the tense atmosphere, which was so heated, that it seemed as if a match could be struck, and Jonghyong would flare up like a torch. "Why the fuck did you go there?! Why did I even ask you to do this?!" Kim dropped to his knees in frustration and doubled over, running his hands through his tousled hair and squeezing hard.
Jungsuk tried to approach again but suddenly felt a fleeting touch on his shoulder.
"He must overcome this, Jungsuk. Your way is complete. But he's not yet."
"Why now?" Jungsuk closed his eyes, and the telltale tears came out of the corners. "He needs me so much right now."
"He always needed you. He must handle it. But this time without you."
Jungsuk shook his head, trying to clear it. He couldn't believe it. It seemed to him, that he was still asleep. What was he injected with? What he saw, in a terrible dream will not dream.
When Jungsuk opened his eyes again, he did not see Jonghyong. And the living room was gone too, replaced by the church, which his parents went to. Jungsuk turned his head, trying to see the objects around him.
"Maybe, we shouldn't be here, Jungsuk?"
Park started at the sound of his pursuer's voice next to him. He appeared so suddenly, that Jungsuk could not help shivering. But he no longer felt the usual fear. It seems, that his new acquaintance did not wish him harm. Just followed him, wherever he went.
"What's going on here?" one moment they were standing in the middle of the living room in the house of Jungsuk and Jonghyong, and the moment he blinked, the young man moved to a completely different place. Jungsuk moved a little forward and saw the priest. He was sadly reading a heart-rending speech next to the coffin on a small pedestal. Many people were sitting on the benches, among whom Jungsuk recognized his parents, friends, and work colleagues.
"This is your funeral, Jungsuk."
"But…" Park turned to the still-blurry shape, "we were just now…"
"Time moves differently in our world, Jungsuk. Here you can blink, and there," the indistinct silhouette of a man's hand, pointed at the crowd sitting opposite Jungsuk, "it may take years. You just stepped over a certain period. That's all."
Jungsuk didn't understand a damn thing, that was being said to him. But he nodded, deciding not to go into details. Head ached with the knowledge of what was happening. Jungsuk squinted, trying to make out his favorite face in the crowd. Jonghyong sat in the very first row. One. All in black, with flowers in his hands. As he came closer, Jungsuk was horrified by the way his husband looked. His face was haggard and ashen, his eyes were almost sunken into his sockets, and black shadows lay under the lower tier of once-fluffy lashes. Jonghyong seemed to have added at least five years to his actual age. He was noticeably thinner. But the most terrible thing was reflected in his eyes. It's were completely empty and lifeless. The once mischievous brilliance of the brown has evaporated, leaving only a dark iris. Jonghyong didn't seem to understand, what was going on around him at all.
Jungsuk crouched down next to him in an attempt to touch Jonghyong's face, but as soon as he held out his hand, it passed through the material body once again, and Kim's eyes widened, as if in fright. Tears welled up, ready to fall. Jonghyong breathed faster and closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly.
"I can't touch anything," Jungsuk said, standing up and approaching the silhouette, looking at his own hand in disbelief. "If I'm a ghost, shouldn't I look like You?" Jungsuk ran his fingers over the transparent alien hand, once again feeling nothing. Just emptiness. But his body remained material. At least, at first glance.
A light chuckle escaped the other's lips.
"You're not a ghost. You see yourself, as you used to see when you were alive. You're wearing casual clothes, and your appearance hasn't changed, since the last time you saw yourself. But you no longer belong to this world. You have to understand, that you didn't go or disappear. Just died, Jungsuk. After death, your existence does not end. The living stay alive. And the dead are dead. If you can understand and accept it, will be much easier. Believe me."
Jungsuk didn't know, what he wanted. The idea, that he was dead, scared the hell out of him. But now, watching own funeral, seeing mother's tears, father's faded face, brother, who was barely able to stop himself from running out of here with desperate screams, and Jonghyong… The man, who was everything to him. Jungsuk could not imagine life without him. He didn't know, what was going to happen to both of them now… How will they be able to overcome it. They've been through a lot. But the death… this Jungsuk not foresee.
Jonghyong lost everyone, he loved. All those, who were close and dear to him. And Jungsuk was the anchor, that kept him in the world. Jonghyong could not imagine his existence without him. Looking back, Jonghyong did not understand, how he had lived in the beginning… without Jungsuk. What moved him, what motivated him, what he wanted. Jungsuk was pulling him out of shit, that others couldn't imagine. If it wasn't for senior, Kim would probably have lost himself long ago. And couldn't go back. Jungsuk was always there. No matter, what happened, no matter, what Jonghyong encountered, no matter, what darkness enveloped him, trying to drag him into its abyss, it was Jungsuk, who pulled him out each time, pointing the way to the light. And now he didn't know, what to do. How to cope with the next load, mercilessly pressing on his tired shoulders. Jungsuk left him. Jonghyong was left alone. Truly alone. And this thought could not be fixed in his seemingly mad brain. Who now can lead him out of the darkness, that stood behind him, gradually absorbing and drawing, embracing the haze of their indistinct, but no less tenacious hands?
"I have to stick here after the funeral?" Jungsuk asked. At the moment he was back in his and Jonghyong's living room, among his many paintings. Jungsuk walked slowly around the room, taking in every landscape. As a rule, in the past, Jonghyong painted landscapes. According to him, Jonghyong was fascinated by the way, he immersed himself in the atmosphere of a particular place, that he imagined in his head.
"People are too uninteresting and primitive."
This is what junior said to Jungsuk, when the latter asked, why he did not paint portraits. After all, judging by the way Jonghyong wrote his own, junior was definitely not without talent in this area either.
"You are an exception to the rule," Jonghyong said with a shy smile. "I have thought of you so often, imagined you in my dreams and fantasies, that it has driven me mad. Your image haunted me, even in my dreams. So, I decided to paint your portrait in the hope, that it would help. But it seems to have only gotten worse," Jonghyong's chuckle made senior pat his hair.
"You can leave whenever you want. It's up to you," a man's voice said. Jungsuk nodded, still looking at his husband's works.
"These are the ones Jonghyong wrote after his brother died. When…" Jungsuk took a deep breath, trying to banish the sudden return of terrible memories. He didn't know, why he was saying this, but for some reason, he went on, "After he lost his family, the style of his work became different."
Jungsuk, without touching the canvas, ran his fingers over the blurred lines of abstraction, that Jonghyong had painted after a long period of "stagnation". It was his first job since his parents and brother had died. Jonghyong worked on it for a very long time. Sometimes he was subjected to terrible tantrums, throwing things and objects of his art around the workshop. And sometimes he went into a kind of prostration for a few hours. And Jungsuk tried not to touch him, bypassing, understanding, that Jonghyong is deep "in itself".
"I understand, that this is not, what you are used to seeing," after the completion of Jonghyong, as usual, stood next to the picture with Jungsuk. For him, senior was always the main critic of his works.
"But… I like it. It fully reflects the feeling, that is now sitting in me."
Then Jungsuk was terribly afraid of these words of junior. He tried not to show it, but still secretly from Jonghyong continued consultations with a familiar psychologist, who was also a good friend of the family and the attending physician of Jonghyong.
"Jungsuk, Jonghyong has been through too much. His life is gradually getting back to normal. I said then, and I will say now: the passion for creativity is the best medicine at the moment. He feels more confident, calmer, he is busy, with what he is used to. You shouldn't focus so much on projecting his thoughts on paper. It will be better if he will write exactly, what he thinks. Express on canvas exactly, what he feels. This will help with time. His condition was unstable and shaky for quite a long time. And his work now is the least, he can do to somehow cope with himself. Jonghyong is not the only patient of mine, who is engaged in painting. And believe me, some patients draw such abstract gothic pictures, that it's hard to imagine. But this is their way of dealing with, what is happening. Accept the reality, they are in. Don't push him. All you have to do is support him. You are his top priority. You are his whole world. Pictures are just positioning his own thoughts."
"It looks a little like You," Jungsuk said, turning to the other man with a grin.
The man laughed in response, and Jungsuk felt a slight sense of confidence. He was gradually getting used to the presence of his new acquaintance.
Moving away from the paintings, Jungsuk moved forward to the small table, where Jonghyong was currently sitting. Jungsuk couldn't see, what his husband was doing, so he moved even closer, immediately feeling, an aura of pain and despair pressing down on him. He could literally feel his husband's suffering. He tormented, and Park could do nothing, to help him. Nothing now…
Stepping around Jonghyong, Jungsuk stopped a little to one side and examined the table. On it was sheets of paper of various sizes and shapes, each sheet reflecting a sketch of Jungsuk's face, which had been drawn with a pencil. And now on a small stub Jonghyong was furiously trying to reflect the image of his husband again, this time more quickly and confidently drawing a pencil on the white surface.
"God…" his heart ached from the pain. Jungsuk put his hand on his chest and felt, that he was ready to fall into the abyss in the literal sense of the word. He wished with all his heart, that he could do anything, to take away the pain, that Jonghyong was experiencing now.
Jonghyong continued to desperately draw the familiar lines and curves, it seemed, not paying attention to anything.
"Jonghyong-a," Jungsuk's voice sank to a whisper, and his hand moved over his husband's shoulder, moving slowly to his back. Not touching, just drawing the outlines of favorite body.
Jonghyong suddenly froze, stopping the pencil in mid-stride. He shifted in his seat and put a hand on his shoulder. Where Jungsuk's hand had passed just a second ago.
"Does he… feel my presence?" Jungsuk was surprised. Every cell in his… body yearned for Jonghyong. All his thoughts were focused on, how Jungsuk could help junior understand and come to terms with, what had happened. But the realization, that Jonghyong could "feel" him too, even if he couldn't see him, went straight through him.
"Perhaps," said the man next to him, "he was too emotionally attached to you in life. Sometimes this happens. At first, the living feels the presence of the dead, especially, if the latter is not going to leave."
"Can I stay?" Jungsuk was encouraged by this idea. If his presence, however insubstantial, would help Jonghyong cope with his loss, help him find peace and spiritual harmony, Jungsuk was ready to stick here until the end of the century.
"No one can make you leave, Jungsuk. But your presence won't help. Perhaps, this will only make the situation worse. Jonghyong must understand and accept your death. Don't give him false hopes. The dead, in any case, remain dead, Jungsuk."
Jungsuk didn't want to believe it. The thought, that, at least, this way he could be with his beloved, did not leave him. Jungsuk squatted down next to Jonghyong and almost put his hands on his lap.
"Jonghyong-a, I am here," he tried to catch the younger man's eye, but junior continued to stare straight at nothing. Although his hands landed exactly, where Jungsuk's were, even though it went right through. Jonghyong put his big hands on Park's knuckles, and Jungsuk immediately felt warm, even though he had previously felt nothing, but emptiness, when he touched junior.
"I'm here, with you. Baby, you can feel me, right?" Jungsuk could have wept in despair. Jonghyong suddenly turned his head and looked directly at Jungsuk. A shiver ran down the man's spine. His husband looked directly into his eyes, and for a moment it seemed to Jungsuk, that Jonghyong's gaze was aware of his presence. But Jonghyong after a second closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, turning again to the table. He hastily picked up a pencil and began drawing again. Lifting his head slightly, Jungsuk saw, that Kim had written his name under the unfinished sketch. Jonghyong ran his free hand along the line, that he had drawn, and a single tear rolled from the corner of his eye, falling and soaking into the soft surface of the leaf.
"Jungsuk-a," whispered Jonghyong, and Jungsuk missed the sigh when hearing the voice of his husband, so desperately uttered his name. Jonghyong continued to draw the familiar lines of his favorite name faster and faster. The handwriting was indecipherable, the hand was shaking, and the letters came out sprawling and indistinct. Jungsuk watched, not taking his eyes off it, until Jonghyong threw the pencil violently to one side, clenching the paper roughly into a fist, and the next moment threw the unfortunate scrap away from him. The young man jumped up from his seat, which further frightened Jungsuk, and hysterically with a loud cry swept everything, that was on the table, to the floor.
"Why did you leave me?" Jonghyong fell to his knees, screaming, and Jungsuk gasped, as the pain squeezed his throat. Choking tears filled his eyes and rolled down his pale cheeks.
"Why did you leave me, when I needed you so much? You left me alone! Come back… Come back to me!" Jonghyong clutched his sketches in trembling hands, shedding bitter tears, which caused the pencil, so carefully drawn on the paper, to blur, erasing almost without a trace.
"You… are my whole life. How will I go on without you?" Jonghyong's voice was hoarse from incessant sobs and a recent scream, which lowered the young man's voice to a whisper.
Jungsuk came closer, swallowing salty tears, and touched his husband's head with a desire to soothe him, to make him aware of his presence, to give him all, that was left.
"I want to help him. I must help!" Jungsuk turned to the figure, that he felt, was still hovering somewhere behind him.
"You can't help, Jungsuk. There's nothing you can do here. No longer have. He must handle it. He must overcome it himself."
Jungsuk only closed his eyes and breathed more quickly…
"How much longer will he suffer this pain? I can literally feel his suffering," Jungsuk stood a little apart from the man, who was bending over of Jonghyong, who stood next to the grave. Jungsuk's grave.
The wind ruffled the younger man's hair, and he hastily combed it back. The young man swept the fallen leaves from the marble slab and placed fresh flowers. Jonghyong ran his fingers over the engraving, lingering on the letters of his husband's name. Grief tore him apart. He couldn't remember, how the funeral had gone, how long time had taken, or how he'd ended up here. All he saw, was the stone before his eyes. And the name, which now even more often, than in life, fell from his lips. Jonghyong saw Jungsuk everywhere, he went. Even in his sleep Park did not leave him. His radiant eyes, beautiful smile, native face, hands, and the warmth of his body. All this Kim felt in his mind and his soul. And couldn't get rid of the oppressive and growing pain inside. Some people say that time heals. It's all bullshit. A pain as deep and stinging, like a hornet's sting, could not be cured by anything on Earth. Jonghyong had lost the dearest and most loved person, he had, and he had no idea, how to deal with it. And is it worth it?..
"Jonghyong is suffering, it's true. But he suffers because you want him to."
"What?!" Jungsuk was so angry at these words, that he was ready to throw his fists at the other man. "How can You imagine, that I would let him suffer like this? I'd give anything, to get him out of this pain!"
"You're doing this unconsciously, Jungsuk. Jonghyong was very dependent on you during his lifetime. You are bound in body and soul. You feel pain. Jonghyong feels it a hundred times more strongly. Your desperation overshadows his mind. You can't fully comprehend your death, and this puts Jonghyong in agony. He is not aware, what is happening. He can't accept, that you left him. Because you can't do it yourself. You must accept it. Otherwise, the soul of Jonghyong will not be able to find peace."
Jungsuk felt a huge weight of guilt weighing on his shoulders. The words of the other man gradually reached the hazy mind, and Park knew, deep down in his heart, that, what he had said, was true. He was still not aware of his position. And thus, as it turned out, made it worse not only for himself but also for his loved one. Jonghyong was literally dying before his eyes, falling apart, splitting into pieces, but Park could not change anything. Nor did his presence make the situation any better.
"Baby, I'll stay with you as long, as you need. If that's, what you want, please, let me know. I know you can feel me. We always felt each other," Jungsuk whispered in the ear of Jonghyong, crouching next to him near his own grave, trying with all his strength to do something, still not believing in his helplessness. But Jonghyong closed his eyes, covering his ears with hands, and suddenly shouted so loudly, that he almost deafened Jungsuk. His yell was picked up by the wind and carried around the area, echoing in the branches of nearby trees.
Jungsuk leaped away from Jonghyong, covering his face with his hands. It seemed, that his presence really only made Jonghyong worse. Jungsuk couldn't believe it. Every time, he got close to Jonghyong, tried to touch him, whispered words of support in his ear, the junior went into a panic tantrum, screamed, and burst into tears. His body was shaking, as if in a fever. And his condition weighed on Jungsuk worse, than the heaviest burden.
Jungsuk tried to take a deep breath, to regain his composure. He opened his eyes and started walking toward Jonghyong. Pausing for a moment, Jungsuk raised his hand to touch his husband, but at the last moment changed his mind and withdrew his hand, letting it fall limply along his body.
"Goodbye, baby," Jungsuk whispered and nodded to the blurry figure, that had been there all this time, and followed him. Toward the bright light. Into the void…