Why do we believe in ghosts? For the sake of fun? No, it's the prospect of an afterlife
("1408")
The USA. New York, 2028
More than a week had passed since Jungsuk's death, and Jonghyong still couldn't believe, what had happened. It always seemed to him, that, if he closed his eyes and opened them again in a moment, senior would be there. As if nothing had happened. He would be here with Jonghyong, and he would hold him in his small, strong, demanding arms, which had brought him peace and protection more than once. Cover his back. Tell him, that everything will be fine. Protect him from the pain and all the misfortunes, that have fallen on his head. But each time Jonghyong knew, it wasn't going to happen. The realization came slowly and painfully. The loss of a loved one burned a gaping bleeding wound in the heart of Jonghyong. Another wound, that could not be patched or healed. Kim lost everyone, he loved. He was completely alone in this huge and terrible World.
The loss of his parents and younger brother had almost killed him. He fell to the bottom of such an impenetrable and deep abyss, that it is difficult to imagine. And it was Jungsuk-Hyong, who pulled him out. Never lost faith in junior no matter, what he did. He was always there no matter, how bad it was for Kim, no matter, how much shit he was going through, no matter, how hard he tried to prove, that he didn't need the help of a senior at all. Jungsuk read him, like an open book, knowing without words, when to give junior a thrashing, and when it was best to just keep quiet. And now, having lost the last light, that burned in Kim's soul, fueling his seemingly ready to extinguish the fire, junior wanted to howl at the hopelessness of his situation. Someone says, that after losing someone you care about, everything in your life loses all meaning. Now Jonghyong fully agreed with the deep meaning of this statement. He didn't feel anything. Literally nothing, only pain, and fear. Every day, opening his eyes after another so-called dream, junior began his existence the same way. He ate, drank, moved around the house, went shopping, even tried to work, but all these actions were performed almost automatically. Food had lost its flavor, the water did not quench thirst, favorite things did not bring former joy, sounds were mixed into one general stream of noises, that only irritated the sensitive ear, the sun no longer caressed with its pleasant warmth, the rain did not feel the usual moisture on the clothes, and the wind, whether it was warm or cool, did not wash its breath on a lifeless face. It was as if Jonghyong had died with Jungsuk on that fateful day, and now all, that was left of him, was a pitiful image of the old Jonghyong. The material shell of something soulless and unreal. An echo of a past life with a loved one. It was like the ravings of a madman, but Kim never considered himself different. It was Jungsuk who always tried to prove him wrong. With his disappearance, junior returned to the original point of reference. But now he had no idea, in which direction to go next. And whether to move at all…
Jungsuk's parents made some attempts to support junior, even offering to live with them for a while until Jonghyong recovers. But he politely, but coldly declined this generous gesture. Jonghyong doubted, that he would ever recover from this. To be honest, others' pity only made him angry and irritated. The older brother of Jungsuk visited junior several times, even staying with him for the night, but this did not help Jonghyong. On the contrary, it only made the situation more difficult. Junior had a lot of nightmares, since the day his husband died. And in another such nightmare, Hyong was trying to help, when he heard a loud scream from Kim's room. But as soon as the man touched Jonghyong in an attempt to calm him, he shrank away from him, as if from fire, his eyes glistening with tears, his hands trembling, clutching the pillow tightly, covering it, as if it were a shield from an attacking enemy. Jonghyong shook his head, huddled in a corner on his own bed as long, as the Hyong has not left his room, taking a promise from junior, that he would still call him if he needed anything. Jonghyong didn't call.
Every day that followed was hell for Kim, and now he regretted with every fiber of his crippled soul, that senior of Chaebom acquaintance had helped him recover from the drug addiction, that junior had fallen into after the death of his parents. Right now Jonghyong desperately wanted to just die of an overdose in some pathetic corner, just fall asleep and not wake up. Just don't feel anything. Not to feel the pain, that tore through his throbbing heart. It was the kind of pain, he hadn't experienced even during the drug addict, when Jungsuk and Chaebom had kept him in a room, cutting off all access to the outside world. If he thought, he might die then, he was wrong. A terrible pain twisted his insides into tight cords, twisting them again and again, slowly and methodically, as if someone had deliberately twisted a pre-prepared lever. Head ached from the slightest, even the faintest sound, sending out a rumbling hum as if someone had put Kim inside a huge bell for fun and started banging on it from the outside. Blinding white flashes flashed before his eyes, although the light in the room, where he was, was rather subdued. His own fingers curled against his will, trying to grab at something, to vent the pain, that was eating at him from within. The searing flames spread through veins, searing and burning, and wanted to pour a bucket of water on himself, to get rid of this oppressive heat. Body felt hot and cold. Jonghyong was drenched in sticky, unpleasant sweat and immediately shivered, as if in the cold. He was shaking as if with a fever, his eyes were ready to burst with the effort, his own saliva was drying on his lips, and a heart-rending scream could shake and bring down the walls of his small "cell". But none of this was any fucking comparison to, what junior was feeling right now. He was in so much pain, that he wanted to destroy everything around him, to destroy the small and cozy world, that he and Jungsuk had created. Everything reminded junior of Hyong. Every thing, every corner, every small detail. Kim missed his beloved husband so much, but at the same time, he hated him so fiercely. How could he leave him here, all alone, without help or support? How could he strip him his patronage, protection, and love, which had always been the basis of Jonghyong's existence? Light in the pitch dark. A cure for all ailments and diseases. Junior had no answers to any of these questions.
Now Jonghyong stood in front of his easel and stared stupidly at the light canvas. How long has he been like this: an hour, a few days, a week? He had no idea. Time seemed to have stood still since that day… merged into one common stream, knowing no end or edge. But something brought Jonghyong to his workshop this afternoon. Something made him want to be here. Something, that Kim wasn't responsible for. He didn't even particularly remember, how got here. The attic, in which his workshop, was located looked, as usual – with a slight hint of disorder. The high roof gave a view of the spacious ceilings, which made the room even larger. A huge half-oval mosaic window in the center let in the sunlight, refracting it in an intricate way, that made sunbeams of various colors dance on all the surfaces of the attic room. Different-sized boxes here and there gave the impression of a recent move. Jonghyong didn't want to disassemble the items related to his work completely, leaving them in boxes, even after he and Jungsuk settled here. He knew, which box contained this or that item, even though it looked pretty creepy from the outside. Jungsuk was always surprised, how he can to find anything in such a mess. But Jonghyong only grunted in response. His "creative" nature felt, what and when he needed, so junior unerringly found the right tool in his deposits. Along the walls were rows of Jonghyong paintings: landscapes, that he had always painted before, and abstractions, that only he could understand, that matured in his mind afterward. This place, along with his small separate apartment, always brought a semblance of peace, especially, when Hyong was around. Jonghyong could still feel the warmth of his body, as senior slowly and carefully hugged him from behind, while Kim looked at another of his completed work. He could hear Jungsuk's peaceful breathing close to his ear, feel the wetness of his lips on his cheek. Every time, when he felt Hyong's presence near him, Jonghyong's heart beat faster. It was the same now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew it was crazy, but for some reason, he felt, that Jungsuk was still with him. Somewhere deep inside senior is still here, close by.
Love, like anger, can be considered the strongest feeling, that a person can experience. It has great power, it can make you change, do something, that you can never do under any other circumstances, make you do anything for the sake of this all-consuming feeling. It can heal and save even the most desperate person in the world. But love is also treacherous and cruel. It has the ability to cause deep, never-ending pain, and it can turn you into the most miserable and insane image imaginable. Can make you kill and betray, die and sacrifice for it. It has long been the strongest and most courageous people who have suffered defeat just from a fleeting shot of the insidious arrows of Cupid. Wars were waged for love. Love justified violence. Love was the cause of discord between the closest people to each other.
It would seem, that need to stay away from this feeling, show fear and vigilance, and if you are still subjected to a similar fate, then run without looking back. Try best to forget the madness, that will quickly and irrevocably cover, if you still allow yourself to give up. But no matter, how much it hurt him now, no matter, how empty and miserable he felt, Jonghyong would never give up his past with Jungsuk. As soon as junior imagined, that the last thing he had left – the memory of his dearest and the most beloved person would be taken away from him, Kim was ready to protect this part of himself at all costs. His pain is the result of the boundless and all-consuming love, that he felt for his husband. His tears are proof of his uncomplaining loyalty. His nightmares are a perverse form of awareness. Jungsuk is gone. But this does not mean, that Jonghyong has forgotten him. He will never forget, what was literally destined for him.
Unconsciously, his gaze moved over the row of paintings nearby, and Kim saw the work, that was special to them both. He paused at a single object in the landscape – a small house on the riverbank. In heart felt as if a small but sharp shard of glass had been stabbed into it, slowly making its way inside, to the very center. Salty moisture obscured the view. Jonghyong remembered his conversation with Hyong when he finished this composition. They never managed to fulfill their dream. But something inside him told him that this was not the end. Death is the final point of the path. The finished finish line. It will not be possible to turn back. But love is stronger than death, it can live forever, right?
Junior didn't know when he picked up the paintbrush from a nearby small table. His eyes flashed dangerously, as an idea for a future drawing popped into his head. Jonghyong began feverishly and sometimes even violently to move the brush on the canvas, reproducing the planned sketch with confident strokes. With each movement, the blurred object acquired clearer and more precise lines. From time to time Jonghyong wiped some places with his finger, getting dirty in the paint, tilted his head to one side, hovering in one place and looking at his sketch skeptically and irritably, as if he was dissatisfied with, what he saw. After that, he would start running the brush quickly over the white surface again in an attempt to perfect it. His eyes ached from the strain, and Kim narrowed. Glancing at the window, the young man noticed, that the twilight was descending on the earth, softly enveloping it with the promise of night. He's been here most of the day. Jonghyong took a few steps back from the easel, carefully examining, what he had done. He did not feel the familiar embrace of Hyong behind him, but some unknown force made him think, that senior saw him. Hyong sees, what he sees. Feels the same, as a junior. For the first time in a long time, Jonghyong's heart did not bleed with loss. A little bit of hope settled in him. Is it possible? Is there life after death? Could Hyong really be watching him right now?
"Jungsuk-a…" hoarsely whispered Jonghyong, unconsciously putting his paint-stained hand in the region of the heart. It was pounding like crazy. His breath came in a ragged rhythm, and his cheeks were tanned with anticipation.
"Why do I think, you can see this?" Jonghyong walked over to the picture of a beautiful, majestic tree and lightly touched the still-wet paint with his fingertips.
"I can feel you, like… you're still here," Kim closed his eyes, trying to control his emotions. "I'm trying… trying to accept it. I'm trying to come to terms with the fact, that you are no longer with me. But it's so hard, Jungsuk-a… It's too hard. I'm afraid, I can't do it this time…"
Every word was difficult. Hoarse echoes of phrases stuck in throat after long days of silence. Eyes stung from salty tears. Legs and arms were trembling as if they were too heavy. Jonghyong felt so exhausted and exhausted. He was slowly dying every day in his loneliness. But a fleeting glimmer of hope settled deep in his heart. If Hyong really sees it, if he can watch it, feel it, then Kim must try. Try to be strong for Jungsuk. No matter, how hard it is. After all, even a fleeting, even intangible presence of his husband is much better, than nothing at all…
***
"What is that?" Jungsuk asked in surprise, peering into the distance.
After the flood of information and the gradual realization of his abilities, the young man felt exhausted. He is so tired, that he was ready to sleep… until the end of time. Wonder, if it's possible… here?
Erik suggested, that junior take a walk around the neighborhood so that Jungsuk could get used. Park didn't want to leave the house on the shore. It seemed to him, that he became stronger when he was inside. Despite the fact, that he was well aware, that this house was just a memory from the past, a part of his imagination, a drawing on canvas, he felt, that he belonged to this place. Could feel a piece of Jonghyong, floating in the air. Felt their union even beyond the bounds of possibility.
And now in the midst of a vast empty field Jungsuk saw a beautiful purple willow. Its trunk, thick and powerful, was rooted deep in the ground, a rich brown with red veins. A thick crown of bright purple leaves leaned down to the very surface of the grass cover as if lowering its head in silent thought. The sun played beautifully with the twisting branches, refracting the light, making the purple hue only brighter and more beautiful. The tree appeared out of nowhere, in the middle of a field, without the water source, where it should normally have grown. Compared to the other objects, it seemed the same, as Jungsuk had seen all the vegetation at the beginning of his journey here – fresh and newly painted. This tree definitely wasn't here before. Jungsuk well to remember that. This is the place in the picture of Jonghyong was empty during his senior's lifetime.
"I've never seen this willow here before," Jungsuk said, moving forward toward the tree, watching in fascination, as the wind ruffled the long branches, and the leaves rustled softly, as they played with each other. "It certainly wasn't here, when I was alive. I didn't do it myself. So, where did it come from, Erik?" somewhere deep inside Jungsuk already knew the answer to his own question, but he wanted to hear the opinion of a "professional". "You're too surprised for an expert here, chief," Park said with a snort, as he turned to face his companion, who was still silent and saw the genuine surprise on the other man's face. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened in a silent question. Erik was more shocked than Jungsuk himself.
"How long have you been courting Jonghyong?" as if on automatic, still not taking his eyes off the beautiful wood, Erik asked. This was the first time, he had encountered such a phenomenon.
"What do you mean?" Jungsuk frowned.
"How long have you been flirting with your husband, Jungsuk? How long did it take, before you started dating? When you first time… well…" Erik looked at Park with a malicious smile, playing with his eyebrows, and Jungsuk almost choked with displeasure.
"Damn it, Erik! This is personal!" Jungsuk nudged his mentor lightly on the shoulder but still smiled. Erik just laughed in response. But after a moment the man's face turned serious again, and he looked at the younger man carefully, waiting for an answer. Jungsuk took a deep breath and pretended to roll his eyes.
"Quite a long time, to be honest. We had… some problems at the beginning of our relationship. Jonghyong… he didn't let me get that close to him right away. It took a lot of effort for him, to start trusting me," Jungsuk smiled softly, as he remembered the cat-and-mouse game, he and Jonghyong had played. Jungsuk caught up with junior for quite a long time, but as soon as he overcame his fears and opened up to Hyong, he just couldn't let go of him.
"I have already told you, that Jonghyong was very much attached to you when you were alive. But the development of your relationship has only further strengthened this bond. Kindred spirits!" Erik's suggestion came out of the blue. It was expected, and Jungsuk himself thought about it, otherwise, how could he explain everything, that was happening around him. Still, when the words were spoken out loud, the realization hit like a hammer.
"I've heard of it, but I've never personally encountered it. This…" Erik seemed so surprised, that he couldn't find the right words "is amazing! Jonghyong wrote this tree recently. And it appeared here. You can communicate through his painting! It's just…"
Jungsuk didn't hear a word, that Erik said. He was already standing next to the tree and looking at it closely in all its glory. It seemed unrealistically large, that possible could hide in its crown completely, it dazzles with the brightness of colors, it deafens with the rustle of leaves. Jungsuk lightly touched a long willow branch, and his fingers immediately turned a bright purple shade of acrylic. Erick was right. Jonghyong wrote this tree quite recently. After such a long period junior drew something other, than abstract pictures for the first time. This was his first landscape. And Jungsuk felt with every cell of his immortal soul, that it was he, who was involved in this new work.
As soon as he touched the tree, a wave of heat swept through his entire body, covering from the top of his head to his feet, settling pleasantly deep inside. Head cleared, feet were steady on the ground, and fingers continued to run over the leaves of the tree, sinking into the slightly cool, sticky paint. Jungsuk felt Jonghyong as if junior was right next to him. Closing his eyes, he could see, how Kim standing next to his easel in the attic, working hard, correcting the errors of his intended work time after time, bringing it to perfection. To be honest, Jungsuk couldn't name his husband… neat and focused. In some places, Jonghyong was even slightly absent-minded and inattentive and could easily switch from one task to another, while Jungsuk, for example, meticulously completed one work first and then began another. But when it came to painting… Jonghyong was simply relentless. Especially, about yourself. He could have been in the workshop for hours or even days, don't sleep, don't eat, and don't react to anything until he has perfected his work. If Jungsuk didn't keep an eye on him at such times, junior would have starved to death or collapsed on the floor from lack of sleep. But after Kim finished the next picture, his joy was unlimited. If he was satisfied with his own work, his energy went over the edge. Junior was ready to share it with the whole world, infect everyone with his joy and delight. The sparkle of excitement in his eyes, his rapid breathing, his tousled and slightly rumpled appearance, like a frowning sparrow, and his animated gestures, as he shared his impressions of the work, he had done… all this seemed to Jungsuk insanely sweet and attractive. And with age this has not changed at all, on the contrary, it has only become more noticeable. Jungsuk liked to watch a seemingly adult, self-sufficient, and independent man waving his arms, screaming, and jumping on the spot from an overabundance of emotions. Kim never knew, how to hide his true feelings, his face always clearly reflected every emotion, that he experienced. And this also remained unchanged.
Jungsuk felt the love, with which Jonghyong painted this tree. There was nothing special about it, but the junior had put his thoughts and feelings into it, and Jungsuk could feel it clearly. If Jonghyong took up the paintbrush, perhaps, he was gradually coming to his senses? Perhaps, he would find peace in the bond, they had formed, even at such a great distance from each other. The thought stuck deep in Park's mind. He wished with all his heart, that junior would stop suffering, live on as long, as he was supposed to, perhaps, even… fall in love again. But the latter is hardly feasible. Such feelings, as they had, did not disappear without a trace. They built up it long and hard, overcame obstacles and difficulties, put up with the negative sides of each other, accepted each of them, as they are, without trying to change or remake for themselves. Jungsuk could tell with certainty, that, if he were in Jonghyong's place, he would never be able to love again. There was only one place in his heart for one person. And knowing his junior, having walked with him all the way from start to finish, Park was sure, that a man, like Kim Jonghyong, would not let anyone near him, until he died. He would rather be alone, than be touched by anyone other, than Jungsuk. And even more so, he can't let anyone reveal his soul.
"Jonghyong-a…" the name of his beloved husband fell from lips, like the soft rustle of the leaves of a purple willow, which Jungsuk did not stop touching, trying to absorb the warmth, tenderness, and love, that Jonghyong gave to this tree. Park could have screamed in frustration, in loneliness, in not being able to be near Kim right now. But their bond, which had been formed over the years and had flowed smoothly even beyond the "line", still slightly calmed the aching pain of loss in the soul. If Jungsuk can communicate with Jonghyong at least in this way, if he can help him get through it, if he can help himself get through it, it might not be the worst alternative.
***
Jonghyong stood and stared at his first landscape in a long time while conflicting thoughts continued to swirl in his head. He shivered, as if he were cold, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Why does he think, that Jungsuk-Hyong really sees this? Why such wild assumptions? It's just unreal. There's nothing else after death, right? Only emptiness. The deafening silences. A piece of marble, embedded in the ground. The fleeting sense of other's presence was replaced by anger, and the warmth, that seemed to have just recently caressed the fingers, that touched the written tree, turned into a sharp cold, that sent a wave of goosebumps down arms and spine. Jungsuk died. He's gone. He left junior. And he will never come back. Kim will no longer be able to feel his warmth and caress, feel his touch, hear the melodious and beloved voice. Junior would never again see the natural brown eyes, that lit up whenever Hyong looked at him. Jonghyong was left alone.
"You can't see this," whispered junior and picked up a bottle of water from the table. Frantically, he unscrewed the lid and poured the contents onto the canvas. Moisture is immediately absorbed by the surface, washing away the freshly applied, still wet paint. The beautiful purple tree was disappearing right before eyes, spreading out in colored water paths, leaving only a blurred outline.
"And you never will!" the voice went from quiet and uncertain to loud and desperate, and then Jonghyong pushed the easel away from him, and it fell with a thud. Junior was so angry at Jungsuk, at himself, at the world in general, that he began to violently destroy everything, that came to hand: from his creative tools to empty boxes, stacked haphazardly in a corner. After a while, the attic was a mess, and Kim slumped down the nearest wall, his hands in hair, ruffling it. Hot tears gushed from his eyes, running in torrents down cheeks, which were flushed with anger. He hated himself for being weak, but he couldn't help it. He needed senior as much, as the air he breathed. Just a little more and he'll suffocate. It's always been that way. And the loss of a loved one only made the situation worse.
"Hate…" he shouted into the void. "I hate you! Why… why did you leave me?! What am I without you?! What should I do now?!" Jonghyong screamed and screamed, it seemed, until his vocal cords sat. Somewhere on the periphery of his scattered consciousness he knew, that no one was to blame. People are born and die. This is the law of life. And you can't change anything. But in this state junior could not think rationally. His pain had been eating at him for so long and so persistently and still is, that Kim simply couldn't stand it, unfairly blaming Hyong for the causes of his current condition. What else could he do? The more junior thought about the future, the more he dreaded it. Previously, he believed, that his future was Jungsuk. Now that he wasn't around, he didn't know, what the next day would bring. And, to be honest, didn't want to know.
***
Jungsuk staggered from a strong gust of wind, that suddenly came from nowhere. He moved away from the purple tree a short distance, covering his face with his hand, for the force of the wind was so powerful, that it was possible to be blinded by the unpleasant burning sensation in his eyes.
"What's going on?" Jungsuk raised his voice above the noise, addressing Erick, who was standing a little way off. But when he saw the man's surprised expression, he realized, that he was as ignorant of the cause of the sudden weather, as Park was.
Suddenly Jungsuk's eyes widened in shock. He saw the once-majestic and seemingly unshakeable tree begin to gradually disappear before his eyes. A violent whirlwind swirled around the thick trunk and long branches, ripping off small purple leaves, carrying them somewhere far away. Each time the tree's crown became smaller and smaller until only a few very light, almost transparent purple leaves remained on the thin branches. The trunk gradually faded, losing its former richness, and in a couple of moments, only a black spot on the ground was formed in place of the beautiful tree. Jungsuk rushed to this place, as if trying to save the former beauty, but only came across a sticky dark puddle. Park crouched down and touched the surface with his fingers. Paint. As suddenly and spontaneously, as the tree appeared, so, quickly and suddenly it disappeared, leaving behind only an acrylic mass.
"Jonghyong…" his husband's name came out of his mouth so painfully, that the young man did not recognize its familiar sound. He had hoped so… that the bit of Jonghyong, which was formed here as his painting, could help them both get through this. Don't go crazy from losing each other and being alone. It will help feel each other again. But Jungsuk was wrong. Junior didn't want to believe it, otherwise how could explain, what had happened? Jonghyong was so heartbroken, that he just didn't want to be aware of anything. And Park couldn't blame him. At least, he tried.
"I love you…" he wanted to say it again. Looking into his eyes, holding his hands, holding him close, listening, to his heart pounding with joy. Jungsuk closed his eyes and sank to the ground, wrapping arms around his knees and rocking back and forth, like a child's dummy. Now he understood, why were people, who simply did not believe in all this: parallel worlds, life after death, rebirth, God, and all the other nonsense, that children were always put in their still young heads from childhood. How is it possible to believe in all this, when some unknown higher power can at any moment take away, what is dear to you without any reason, without any definition? The answer is very simple – nothing…
Park felt a touch on his shoulders and instinctively twitched, avoiding the other's hands. Erick froze for a moment with his hands outstretched, but then he took them away with a deep sigh and just sat down next to the younger man, looking down at the ground. He understood, that it was very difficult for Jungsuk right now. Therefore, tried to support him or simply not to interfere and give him a chance to recover. It's not easy. Death is a kind of a bitch. She does not ask your permission when She should visit you, but simply comes at the appointed time and does Her job. It is quite difficult to understand and realize this. And Erick is willing to wait as long, as it takes when this realization comes to Jungsuk, as it should. It always happens sooner or later.