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The island isn’t big. It’s not like they could have avoided each other forever.
But Minho’s breath still catches in his throat when he sees Hyunjin walking along the cliff road, hair caught on the wind that runs up from the sea and sings to the mountains, his face from some classical literature book Jisung would enjoy reading out loud to them all as he turns towards the ocean and closes his eyes, like the wind has something to say to him in specific.
Minho hates him and his stupid face and every fiber of his being that seems ripped from the pages of a romantic novel.
“Hyung? Are you coming inside?”
“Mm, set the pan on the stove,” Minho calls over his shoulder, grateful for once that Felix doesn’t have his eyes, as he leans more heavily on the broom, unable to tear his eyes away from the figure of Hwang Hyunjin as he takes his time with his steps, “I’ll be there in a moment.”
The door creaks like Felix is hesitating, so Minho harshly brings the broom back to the concrete once again like he has a purpose out here and give his brother the freedom to leave him be.
When the door closes, Minho dares look up at Hyunjin again, long limbs picture-esque against the landscape.
He scowls and sets the broom against the side of the house.
Then he leaves the gate to the house unlocked, an umbrella hung on the fence post, before wrapping himself in his sweater and entering his house on the edge of the cliff.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Minho ate his lunch on the edge of the playground with Chan. It was what he always did and always would do until they graduated. It was quiet and cool under the shadows of the larger trees, and he didn’t have to worry about who was listening to them talk. Not that Minho did much talking, Chan talked enough for the both of them, and if he wasn’t talking, he was kicking a ball around with the younger kids in the field between the trees.
The quiet was nice. Minho enjoyed it.
And then one of the boys kicked the ball right to Minho’s feet.
Minho hadn’t even cared about it at first, but then his lanky shadow joined it, and when Minho’s eyes followed that shadow, it led to a pretty face that scrunched in disapproval, disgruntled when it asked–
“Aren’t you going to kick it back?”
Swallowing his mouthful of kimbap, Minho took his time staring at him blankly, before responding curtly.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
With a scoff, the boy came a little too close into Minho’s space to kick the ball towards himself.
“You’re a little rude, you know that?”
“I don’t care.”
The boy rolled his eyes into his bangs, before dribbling the ball between his feet and then kicking it up into his hands.
“I’m Hyunjin.”
“I still don’t care.”
“I think I sit next to your brother. Lee Felix? He’s nice, I like him. He’s nicer than you.”
“Fascinating.”
Hyunjin tilted his head and stared down at Minho, “He speaks highly of you. Dunno why though.”
“Me neither.”
Minho really wished this boy would leave him alone.
“You’re so rude.”
“So you’ve mentioned. Go away.”
“I will. When I want to.”
Rolling his eyes, Minho continued eating his lunch. It annoyed the boy, who scrunched his nose and leaned further into Minho’s business, taking a sniff of his food, before rudely snatching Minho’s chopsticks to take a bite of his food.
Minho stared at him. Hyunjin’s eyes brightened, just a little bit.
“Hey, that’s pretty good.”
Snatching back his chopsticks, Minho made a motion of trying to stab Hyunjin in the eyes, which finally made him stumble back a few steps, his bright expression replaced with something more properly offended again.
He looked like he had something sharp on the tip of his tongue to retort back again, when Chan called out–
“Hyunjin! C’mon, what’s taking so long!”
“Coming!” turning one last time to regard Minho, Hyunjin scoffed, looking down at Minho’s meal and then back up at him, “Your eomma is nicer than you.”
Taking a deep sigh he let out slowly and dramatically, Minho didn’t even look up at Hyunjin when he replied, “Mm? How do you figure that?”
“Only kind people could cook food that tasty, I know it.”
Then Hyunjin was gone, and Minho was staring at his little lunch tiffin rested on his knees, utterly stolen of his thoughts and words.
And he started crying.
He decided then and there, that he hated Hwang Hyunjin.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Hyunjin sets up his easel at the top of the mountain as it starts to rain.
The umbrella over his shoulder, he loosely ties his hair back and takes his paintbrush to the canvas. He’s sketched out everything stretched before him already, from the comfort and loneliness of his own bedroom looking at postcard pictures, but the color required the majesty of the landscape itself.
He hadn’t had the foresight to consider the rain until he was halfway up the mountain.
Foresight had never really been his strength.
His phone rings, and he groans knowing he’s not the only one who thinks that.
He lets it ring for several moments, gripping the umbrella and the shaft and the letters that spell out Lee neatly along it, but when it stops it only starts again after several seconds, and it’s annoying enough that he picks it up.
Jeongin knows him too well.
“ It’s going to storm.”
“I can see that.”
“ And your ass is definitely not prepared to be out in a storm. ”
“You don’t know that,” Hyunjin squints as his shade of turquoise is a smidge darker than it ought to be, biting his lip as he tries to adjust it.
“ Bet. No jacket, no umbrella–”
“I have an umbrella right now actually. Eat dirt, loser.”
“...I bet my entire record collection that it’s not your own umbrella. ”
“Ooh, including your Led Zeppelin? Billy Joel?” Hyunjin squints, mixing in a little yellow to get the shade right, “...Beyonce?”
“ Cheap blow, that’s not mine, it’s Jisung's, why would I bet that? Besides, we both know I’m right, whose umbrella is it?”
“Mm, but Jisung sold you his records–”
“--Safeholding, I’m keeping the safe for him– ”
“Whatever helps you both sleep at night,” Hyunjin singsongs teasingly, before humming contentedly and taking a step back to see if the shade matches the rest of his composition.
“Regardless, whatever I own I’m betting. Which is technically nothing, because I’m right, and you need to tell me who’s umbrella you stole so I can go apologize to them for you.”
Hyunjin hums, mixing a deep blue for where the sky touches the ocean, “What did Channie-hyung scold you about again? Something about meddling in other people’s businesses?”
“Channie-hyung was nursing a sore pride after the love of his life got stolen out from right under his nose. Wouldn’t have happened if he listened to me.”
“You’re spending too much time with that Kim Seungmin. His pride is bleeding into yours. It’s going straight to your head.”
“ What nonsense are you going on about?”
“Nothing, baby, don’t worry about it.”
On cue, the sky rumbles in warning, and suddenly Jeongin is acting all mature and scolding him again.
“ Hyunjin. Where are you, I’ll pick you up. ”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hyunjin mumbles, carefully tracing the horizon with his brush, “And you say I’m spewing nonsense.”
“ Channie-hyung said you didn’t tell him, where are you? East side or west?”
“That’s because Channie-hyung knows about not meddling and is trying to teach you a lesson, Jeongin-ah. You should learn from him.”
“ I swear, I will punch that smug smile off you when I get there–”
“Respecting your elders, we’ll cover that next,” Hyunjin braces himself as a strong wind catches him and he has to reach out to steady his easel, the umbrella threatening to fly from his grasp, “Actually. Lesson number one on respect, starts right now. Bye, Jeonginnie!”
“Hyung, don’t–!”
He hangs up and tosses his phone to the ground.
He’s got a skyline to finish.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Hyunjin wasn’t a stranger to getting grounded for running his mouth. Usually it was his sister sticking her tongue out at him and provoking problems, but this time even she seemed a bit sorry for him as she set down his dinner on his bed.
“You really didn’t know…?” she frowned sympathetically.
Hyunjin huffed, “No, Yeji, I didn’t know. How am I supposed to know who’s lost their parents and who hasn’t, huh?”
Yeji shuffled her feet like she was uncomfortable with how he put it, but she seemed to agree with him.
“I don’t think it’s that… it’s probably just how you mentioned it maybe…”
“I was complimenting his food!” Hyunjin threw his arms up, “I was telling him how good it was! I was trying to be nice to a sour, undeserving kid! Why am I getting in trouble and not him!”
When Yeji didn’t say anything, he leaned up to see her standing awkwardly, picking at her fingernails.
“...What.”
She shrugged, and then shuffled her feet awkwardly, “He’s… he’s a nice boy, okay, don’t… don’t be mean to him.”
For a moment, Hyunjin looked at her, before he realized the tell-tale signs of her having a crush creeping up towards her ears, and reached behind to lob a pillow at her.
“He’s my enemy, Yeji-ah, my enemy!” he screamed, “You can’t fall in love with my enemy!”
Blushing properly now, the red in her cheeks bubbled into something embarrassingly angry, and she picked up the pillow to throw it straight back at him, screaming, “You’re so immature!”
She left and Hyunjin turned face down in his bed to scream into a pillow.
He didn’t hear the window open till a loud sigh whispered from it.
“You’re so dramatic. And for what?”
Hyunjin clutched the pillow closer around his face, “G’m ‘wmg.”
“Can’t understand you, don’t care,” Jeongin’s feet hit the floor and he spun, flopping onto the edge of the bed and sending Hyunjin bouncing, “Honestly, what a douche move. The funeral was literally held in our church two days ago, even I remember it.”
Hyunjin turned his head and sniffled, “That’s because your mom makes you go to every stupid funeral that happens on this island.”
Then Jeongin’s head snapped towards him, eyes sharp and serious, “Funerals are not stupid.”
Something cowered inside Hyunjin, because he couldn’t seem to say anything right, he just ran his mouth and got himself into trouble with everyone. He was one mistake away from the vow of silence at this point, and Jeongin’s scolding eyes weren’t helping. Pulling himself into a knot, he tried to bury that hollow feeling by holding himself.
Dinner was getting cold on the edge of his bed.
“...Do you want a hug.”
Jeongin’s voice sounded so sick of him when he asked, that Hyunjin didn’t have to hesitate before shaking his head.
“You look like you need a hug.”
“Shut up. Go away.”
Jeongin made that annoyed sound he did when he thought Hyunjin was immature, and it made Hyunjin want to shrivel up and melt away, even as Jeongin fell into bed behind him and loosely wrapped his arms around Hyunjin in a faux comfort that actually warmed Hyunjin from the inside more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure he had the voice to admit anything anyway.
The only thing he’d been worried about with the last storm was that the field behind their school would be too torn up to play football on in the morning.
He didn't really think twice that people had died… did that make him a bad person?
“Apologize to him. Do it.”
“No. Don’t wanna.”
“You’re so immature.”
“Shut up!”
Hyunjin meant to push him away, but somehow he got caught in that net that was Jeongin’s stubbornness, and he was only being held more securely than before.
“Forgiveness heals all wounds, or something like that,” Jeongin mumbled, “I forgive you for lashing out at me all the time and feel great.”
Hyunjin snorted, “I don’t think you’re capable of feeling guilt, Yang Jeongin.”
“Same difference.”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Contrary to popular opinion, Jeongin is not actually that mature.
It would be hard to tell as he takes his brother’s car out into the storm, armed with blankets and towels and food in the back like he’s prepared for anything, but he’s actually avoiding his mom, so when she comes home and asks whether he’s finally thought about taking that scholarship to university he won’t be there to answer.
Seungmin calls every week. He sends pictures everyday. Jeongin knows how perfect it would be.
This stupid island, he tells himself as the car shakes up the mountain road, the rain battering the windshield, how could anyone leave this stupid island?
He asks God to forgive him in the same thought, because even up the cliff road he doesn’t think that, and he thinks of all the beautiful reasons he could never leave, and never want to leave, right as his car groans and stutters and breaks down.
“Damn. Really gonna leave me like that?” Jeongin pulls out his phone and tries to call Hyunjin again, but it goes straight to voicemail, and that pulls an immediate string of swears from his mouth, head to the steering wheel as he’s praying apologetically again, I’m sorry, I’m sorry God, I didn’t mean it, I want to find him, please, I’m sorry.
Once he’s calmed down, he tries to brainstorm what exactly he’s going to do without calling Changbin and whining about how the car broke down again, when a harried knock startles him at the window.
A bright blue windbreaker waves.
Jeongin groans.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
When Jeongin was twelve, he spent almost twenty four hours on his knees praying.
His mother shoveled food into his mouth, but he didn’t let her disturb him that much, because he’d been so sincere in his petition, he couldn’t be bothered with eating or sleeping or doing anything but showing God how sincere he was.
How pious and persistent he could be.
He was a little delirious by the end of twenty four hours, when his grandmother hobbled to the bench behind him and sat herself down, letting out a too-loud sigh of relief and tapping her walking cane to a rhythm only she could hear.
Properly shaking him from his thoughts, he opened one eye, and immediately shut it again, shaking his head to try and block her out like he blocked everything out.
“You know,” she said, too loud, her voice echoing in the church, “Praying never changes God’s mind.”
Jeongin blinked his eyes open, everything purple and blotchy, swaying a little as he tried to gather himself, frowning at her words.
“He wants us to pray, but that’s more for changing us to what His purposes are already decided,” she laughed to herself, “If He didn’t command it, we’d never even do it. And then we’d never see Him giving us what we need and want and never be thankful. Isn’t that funny?”
Jeongin turned slowly to frown at his grandmother. They’d just taken her in last month with the last hurricane, and Jeongin heard his father pray almost every night that they could send her somewhere else, anywhere else to stay but with them. Looking at her now, he wondered whether she knew that, as she smiled at the vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows of the church.
Her church hadn’t been so ornate.
It was also completely destroyed now.
God must not have been happy with their worship.
“Have you unburdened your heart?” she finally looked down at him and asked, “Has He taken them off your shoulders?”
Jeongin stared at her. She also always spoke in riddles; Jeongin could never really understand what she was saying.
“My friend Jisung doesn’t believe in God.”
“A very heavy burden to pray for indeed.”
“And my hyung is going to join the military,” Jeongin frowned, thinking about Changbin, “Because his friend Chan did, but Chan doesn’t have to take care of his family business like Changbin has to, so it’s not so special, it just feels like he’s running away.”
“Ah, I see.”
“I think he should join the coast guard if he wants to do something like that instead,” Jeongin leaned back, relieving pressure of his knees and wincing at the soreness, before leaning back into it and letting the pain crawl up his muscles, “But he at least has a choice. Some people don’t.”
“That’s true. Are you praying for some people or other people?”
Jeongin huffed and his posture fell apart as he fell onto his bum and splayed his legs out to stretch them, his head leaned back onto the pew seat.
“Everyone, halmoni. I’m praying for everyone. Because who else will pray for them?”
Her hand came to his hair, and her fingers were cool, lulling Jeongin to sleep as she untangled the fluffy mess it had become.
“God still takes care of them, whether you pray for them or not.”
“You’re too much of a calvinist, halmoni.”
“Did your appa teach you that word?”
“Yes,” Jeongin’s eyes were serious, “We need to pray for them.”
Her eyes were soft, watery as she smiled, “You’re right. We do.”
The quiet filled the church for a moment, like a fog settling and collecting morning dew. Jeongin was quiet as he stared at the stained glass, the sun filtering through.
“A lot of people died in the hurricane.”
She hummed, “People die.”
“I'm praying for them.”
Then she laughed, “Dead people don't need your prayers, Jeonginnie. The living do.”
She died two weeks later. Jeongin cried that he hadn’t prayed enough for her.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Minho huffs as they trek up the mountain road, up to where only the experienced locals would go, and would try to hide from the tourists when they came in their hoards. Minho hates those seasons. He would hang the thick curtains and leave through the back door to avoid having to fake politeness to people.
His mud boots trudge up the path, and he grumbles to himself, unhappy with everything.
“Hyung! Hyung!”
Minho slows just enough to let Jeongin catch up with him, without looking back or making it obvious that’s what he was doing. But Jeongin must have caught on anyway, because he grabs his arm and loops it with his as he tried to catch his breath.
“Ah, this stupid hyung. I bet he thought something dramatic, like how the lighting to paint would be best in a storm or something, idiot. I hope the rain washed all his paints away.”
Snorting, Minho pulls Jeongin closer to the rocks to shield them from the wind and rain.
In all honesty, there is not a single reason Minho could conjure for why he's out here, searching for this hopeless romantic of a man who is so intent on ruining himself in all the worst ways.
Aren’t you no different, Minho, a voice whispers in the back of his mind, intent on ruining yourself in loneliness, within your little house on top of the cliff?
“You know, I don’t think I’ve actually seen you since the Christmas festival last year,” Jeongin tugs on his arm as they follow the rock face’s shadow, minding his feet as the damp grass and loose stone threatened to pull out from under at any minute, “You’ve been sending Felix to the market and down to the shop, Changbin-hyung tells me. He comes to church, you know, and I tried to ask him about you, but he’s too polite, he doesn’t tell me a word, so I’ve stopped asking.”
“He’s a kind brother,” Minho mumbles, not mentioning that he comes to church and sits in the back pew by the door, so he can still smell the sea during the hymns. He slips out while the music is still being carried in the wind.
He pulls Jeongin behind him as the rock face ends and the wind barrages them with its anger, as they round it and climbed further up the mountain.
“Well,” Jeongin strains to climb the rock face, not quite as nimble and used to the countryside as Minho is, from back when his grandmother showed him the personality of the island and the way to follow it's design, “I think you’re stupid.”
“Good.” Minho pulls him up and zippers Jeongin’s coat tighter, “I’ve told you to always be firm in your opinions.”
If he is being honest, Minho had missed the no-nonsense look in Jeongin’s eyes.
The wind howls, and Minho braces against the cold.
Both of their breaths stop at the sight of an umbrella, rolling across the green, and Minho suddenly remembers what it was that brought him out here, the same thing that made him wonder why he hadn’t insisted Jeongin stay in his cottage and he go looking for Hyunjin himself, that vision of Hyunjin first coming over the crest of the hill in all his romantic wandering blazing in Minho’s mind–
Jeongin gasps a mangled and sad sound as the umbrella tumbles straight off the cliffside and flew into the ocean.
– guilt.
A horrible and wretched guilt .
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Minho was never really at peace within the walls of a church, but he sat there for his grandmother. As he glanced to the side, he saw Felix’s eyes fixed on the minister, his hands clenched together in prayer.
Their grandmother had no such posture about her. She was a picture of peace, as she reached over and took Minho’s hands in hers, like this day was no different than the one where Minho’s mother was lost to sea, and she had taken up becoming a parent to young children again.
Perhaps that was why Minho was so unsettled.
Before the funeral, he had not stepped within such walls.
After all, to his mother, worship of God was in the wind, off the faces of the cliffs, singing songs to the greens of the mountains as they looked upon the endless waters of the ocean. God was in the vastness of the earth and the laughs of her children, and her every breath was filled with praise.
God was not trapped in these small walls. Only death was.
So when the service ended, Minho was quick to find himself outside it again, to where he could find God, and God would bring him his mother.
“I like it better out here too, sometimes.”
Jeongin was always a peculiar boy, and Minho always considered him more Felix’s friend than his own, but at times like this when he looked out at the island, he seemed as old as Minho’s grandmother.
“Hyunjin’s sorry, you know.”
Minho rolled his eyes, “I don’t really care what he is. He can do and feel as he likes, that’s his business.”
With a scoff, Jeongin rounded on Minho, unimpressed, “You can pretend all you like that it doesn’t bother you, I won’t believe you.”
“Good. You should be firm in your convictions.”
Shaking his head, Jeongin mumbled his displeasures as he walked back into the church, leaving Minho out in the cold of the world, pulling his blue windbreaker closer around himself. It did not bother Minho in the slightest.
Alone in the cold was always where he was, and he quite liked his loneliness.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Hyunjin pulls his knapsack closer towards him and shivers against the cold.
If he listens closely, the wind is singing, a beautiful and melodious song.
Can it be painted? He cracks open one eye to look at it all, the grey of the thunderheads overcast on the ocean, can it be captured for the naked eye?
In his room are several paintings hidden within his closet, that only his sister has had the courage to pull out and question him about. And she laughed at him when he asked her.
“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” she had helped him put them all back, shaking her head, “Not everything's meant to be tangible like that, you know. It can be art and beautiful and uncaptured all the same.”
Hyunjin thinks about her now, and how he’d lived to challenge that thought.
It seems with his every waking breath he does nothing but challenge it, like stopping the rising of the sun and the change of the tides–
–or Yang Jeongin going overseas for college and Lee Minho forever hiding away in his home atop the cliff.
Always challenging what is, you’re never content like that, you’ll die fighting death.
Hyunjin smiles to himself and leans closer into the rocks, as they bite and push him away.
At least I won’t go quietly.
I could never go quietly.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Begrudgingly, Hyunjin walked all the way up to Minho’s house with a fresh cooked meal. It was custom, anyway, for the people in the church to provide meals for those who were grieving, but Hyunjin’s mother had been insistent that he be the one to deliver it.
Yeji had pitied him only as far as the last bus stop up the cliff, before she sat herself down and waved him on.
“I’ll wait for you here, I won’t run off,” she scrunched her nose and shucked her boots off, “My feet kill, is all. Damn, how do people live all the way up on this side of the mountain without transport, you think?”
Hyunjin had stared at her for all of twenty seconds before realizing she really wasn’t going to accompany him. He imagined it had something to do with her silly giggling crush, and less to do with her feet. Shamefully, he continued the trek up on his own.
When he finally reached the house, he stood in front of the gate for a shamefully long time, simply staring at the peeling paint and romanticism of its structure, staring out with a face to the island below and another to the oceans surrounding their island. He wondered if the ships could all be seen like perfect buildings on a far off horizon from way up here.
He wondered if Minho ever looked down on the town below and laughed at their silly, small view of the world.
“Hyunjin?” Felix stuck his face out the window, “Oh, you can come in! It’s just a latch, come, I’ll grab the door for you–”
Hyunjin had never been so quiet in his life. He stepped into the home like his loud mouth might shatter something, and his touch might set another thing ablaze. Their grandmother is a sweet old lady, who set sweet buns on the table for Hyunjin to take a helping of, as though he wasn’t the one bringing them condolences.
He took two buns, just to be polite, feet shuffling for the door.
Before he could make his way out, he caught sight of Minho, standing just out of sight in the shadows.
They stood and stared at each other for a moment.
“I– I’m so sorry,” Hyunjin stuttered, bowing, before stumbling over his own feet out of the house and down the country road back to town. He didn’t even realize his hurry until he nearly walked past the bus stop.
“Oh! Back so soon,” Yeji ran to keep up with him, “Well? Were they well? Oh, what’s this a sweet bun? Did Minho give them to you?”
“His grandmother,” Hyunjin mumbled, giving her both, “They seemed… fine.”
“Really?” Yeji frowned, “Odd, I thought Minho seemed a bit more… reserved than usual. Which is to be expected, obviously. I can’t imagine losing your only parent to be an easy thing.”
Hyunjin didn’t hate his sister often, but he hated her more than anything else in the world in this moment, because when he thought of Minho, there was nothing “reserved” or “difficult” that came to mind, and he couldn’t imagine what everyone else was seeing that he wasn’t because–
“He’s fine, Yeji!” he stopped to yell at her, “Why must everything be such a dramatic thing for you!”
Staring at him for a moment, Hyunjin supposed as her eyes got teary and she began to pout that he ought to have apologized, but she didn’t give him the chance, running off and down the road before he could catch her, and leaving him to stand there and deal with the silent consequence of his actions.
He hated being alone.
Biting his lip, he sniffled, huffed, and slowly set his feet towards home, in no rush to catch up with her.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Jeongin huffs as they carry Hyunjin’s weight between them– not quite dead weight but close enough to be annoying.
“Jus’ leave me…” Hyunjin mumbles, his head falling and coming up, wrapped in one of Minho’s jackets but shivering out of his skin, delirious in every sense, and it makes Jeongin annoyed more than anything.
But he doesn’t say anything, because Minho’s got a pitiful look on his face, and looks pained every time they jostle Hyunjin too much and make him moan.
“He’s just dramatic,” Jeongin has said more than once, to convince himself more than anything, “He’s fine.”
Hyunjin had hummed in affirmation, and then started laughing deliriously in a way that made both Jeongin and Minho wide-eyed out of fear.
They only make it as far as the end of the country road when the thunderheads clap above them again and threaten another torrential downpour. Jeongin groans, and falters enough that Hyunjin nearly falls from his grasp, becoming more limp by the minute.
As he stops to catch his breath, Minho feels Hyunjin’s face and hisses, taking off his knapsack and tossing it to Jeongin.
“Run to the house, quick,” Minho pulls Hyunjin’s full weight, “I have another umbrella I forgot to bring.”
There is a large part of Jeongin that is sure that Minho is just saying that to relieve Jeongin of having to help him and stay out here in the rain, but there’s something in the tender way Minho holds Hyunjin and maneuvers him onto his back that makes Jeongin not think twice about leaving them.
He’s never really been good at the gentle and kind part. He’s a bit brash all over– that’s probably why Hyunjin didn’t listen to him in the first place, and stubbornly pulled against him to stay out in this weather.
It makes him angry when he bursts back into Minho’s little house, scrambling to look for the stupid umbrella under the counters and in the coat racks.
“Jeongin?” Felix rushes down the staircase, “Did you find him?”
“Yeah,” Jeongin pulls out a couple jackets from the closet, “Your hyung sent me back to find an umbrella, do you know where it is?”
Felix stares at him for long enough that Jeongin knows he’s been fooled.
“We, uh, only have one umbrella…”
“...That motherf–”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Jeongin had a little secret.
He had his whole life figured out.
“Oh, Jeonginnie!” his mother had gasped and wrapped him in all her joy in a hug, “Look at this scholarship, my beautiful smart boy, look at this! I’m so proud of you!”
The thing is, Jeongin hadn’t even applied.
Seungmin had applied for him.
Because he knew Jeongin would never leave this little island on his own.
“Everyone knew you had the brains of the family,” his father laughed and ruffled his hair, “We all knew Changbin-ah wasn’t going anywhere, so it had to be you!”
Changbin scowled and hid his hurt pride under a smile that truly seemed proud of Jeongin as he hugged him.
“I told you you were smart,” Changbin shoved him lightly, “I told you there’s bigger things out there.”
And Jeongin hated it.
He hated it with all his heart because he never wanted to leave this island, he never wanted anything to change, and he never wanted anyone to know how stormy and selfish his heart was.
That was between him and God.
So he didn’t say a word.
He let them celebrate and fawn over them, and once everyone had gone to bed, he crawled out of his window and ran to the docks, past where his father’s shop was, and out to where the moon reflected on the waves, stretched off into the distance. His anger bubbled and gasped, and he would have screamed, but instead his hands crawled on his hair and face in exasperation, till it fizzled out and he curled up there on the edge of the water, holding himself.
“Rough night?”
Jeongin nearly jumped out of his skin– Minho was standing several paces behind him off the dock with his bicycle, staring at him.
Scoffing, Jeongin raised an eyebrow at him, “Little late for you to be down in town?”
Wordlessly and unblinking, Minho raised a bag of groceries from the front basket of his bike. Jeongin snorted. He knew Jisung secretly opened up the grocery late for friends.
“You’re creepy, you know that?”
Minho blinked at him several times, as though it didn’t really have a bearing on him at all. Or maybe he was evaluating Jeongin’s odd place of being at the dock, and how he was in no place to say such a thing when he was crouched like that at the dock.
It took a moment for Jeongin to realize that Minho probably couldn’t responsibly leave after seeing Jeongin like this.
“I, uh, won’t jump in,” he stood up abruptly, “I was just thinking.”
Maybe Minho was something of an angel. Maybe God sent him to keep from doing something rash.
Leaning on his bike with a smile, Minho nodded, “Yeah? Heavy things?”
“N-no,” Jeongin bit his lip, feeling hot that he was such a child in front of his hyung right now, “Yes… maybe.”
Unable to look Minho in the eye, he could feel Minho’s fondness all the same, different from his Changbin-hyung teaching him something, different than when Chan called him cute.
Different.
“Do you need a ride back?”
“Uh…” before Jeongin could say either way, Minho motioned with his head, hardly giving a choice but for Jeongin to hop on the back.
“Don’t worry so much, Jeonginnie,” Minho’s voice was steady, low and firm, “Hm? Promise your hyung?”
Leaning his head against Minho’s back, he felt his voice rumble, through his head, while he watched the ocean sparkle and dance as they rode past it.
“Okay, hyung,” he whispered, closing his eyes, “I promise, hyung, I’ll try.”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Minho lays Hyunjin down on the couch and feels his weight fall off him. Hyunjin is all skin and bones. He’s not eating well, Minho can tell, and he hates it.
Hyunjin groans, as though reading his thoughts, because he’s dramatic as hell, his eyes flickering open, and immediately latching onto Minho and his features.
It steals Minho’s breath– his gaze is still piercing and unrestrained in how it searches.
“You’re feverish,” Minho pulls away, keeping his tone even, “Don’t move.”
He breezes past Jeongin and his accusatory gaze, reaching for the medicine cabinet and seeing Felix has already started soup on the stove. He quickly hands the ladle over to Minho though, apologetic and sheepish as he looks at him.
“I, uh, was trying halmoni’s recipe but, uh… it doesn’t smell right…”
Minho smiles at him, sampling it and immediately figuring out what’s missing. For starters, Felix is a miser with their salt, but all in all, he’s done well; they don’t have a single recipe written down in the house, and Felix is usually lost without instructions.
“You did good. I’ll finish it up. Can you grab some pillows and blankets for them?”
Felix’s gaze flickers, and he quickly smiles and runs up to grab from their closet.
Minho is secretly glad the soup is butchered. He doesn’t want to deal with his guests right now, honestly.
“I’ll give him that,” Jeongin snatches the pills from his hand, “Since you want to keep avoiding us.”
Immediately Minho’s shoulders come up and he curls around himself, because Jeongin isn’t wrong, but it still hurts.
“Don’ be mean~” Hyunjin moans from the couch, “I won’t see him for another five years if you are…”
Ow, Minho’s heart cracks in his chest again, and he curls further into himself.
He really is terrible to them, isn’t he?
“Well, if he wants us to see him, clearly we have to do something dramatic anyway, so,” Jeongin retorts, “Good riddance honestly.”
Hng, Minho’s heart hurts, it’s hard to breathe now too, and he cowers over the soup to hide his face.
It shouldn’t bother him that his dongsaengs think so low of him– he hates Hwang Hyunjin anyway doesn’t he? And he’s always told Jeongin to be honest, good for him – but something about how it comes from Jeongin’s lips makes it more real and hard for him to swallow.
“Uh,” Felix’s voice is shallow, scared as though he can sense them fighting, “You both can, uh, sleep here? We have a guest room, I can sleep with hyung, if… if you want?”
“Thanks, hyung,” Jeongin snatches the pillows from him, and immediately begins settling Hyunjin, “I'm going to try and fix my car. Maybe I'll be able to take us home and get out of your hair.”
“O-oh,” Felix definitely hesitates, nervous and fidgety, “You aren't a bother, I promise! It's just the two of us anyway, ha…”
Jeongin hurries himself, and Minho feels his eyes bore holes into his back more than he sees it. The door is loud when it slams closed, and Minho doesn't dwell too long on the fact that it's a heavy door that closes itself with a lot of bravado.
The pain feels good after a while, as it settles between his ribs.
“Don't… don't hold it against him,” Hyunjin rasps out, “He's not like me. He doesn't mean it.”
Without having to say anything, Minho raises his eyebrow at the soup he's stirring and Hyunjin feels it from the room over.
“...Yeah, I never meant it either. He probably learned it from me.”
Minho chuckles, and then he sniffles, and soon he's crying quietly, trying not to oversalt the soup. It's quite the hassle, preparing food and trying to swallow up his emotions all at once, especially as he hears Felix trying to help Jeongin start up the car outside.
He's so preoccupied with himself he doesn't hear Hyunjin lug himself off the couch till he's draping himself on Minho's back, startling him so violently he drops the ladle into the soup.
“Oh. Sorry,” Hyunjin does not sound sorry, then goes on after a beat of silence, “I'm hugging you because you're crying. Don't fight it.”
Minho physically can't fight it because Hyunjin is too sick to support his own weight, and pushing him off and causing him to fall would add an insurmountable load of guilt onto Minho's already crippled heart. He's hoping Hyunjin crushes him in his embrace and rids him of the heavy burden of a heart already; death seems easier than whatever game they're playing.
Instead, Hyunjin sighs.
“You were always too pretty to be bothered by awkwardness.”
What?
“Always quietly floating above us all, with your pretty face and your pretty thoughts… too pretty for us mere mortals.”
Minho blinks at his steaming soup.
“...You're delirious,” is the best response he can come up with.
“Yeah, and that's your fault,” Hyunjin yawns, and melts impossibly deeper into Minho's skin, face sliding into his neck as he droops in exhaustion, “Why'd you leave the umbrella, hm?”
“To remind you it's raining. And that you should turn around.”
Hyunjin whines, “No, that's not fair. You knew I'd take it as a challenge. You knew I would see it as a means to stay out longer in a storm. You knew that.”
Minho clicks his tongue, “Right. My fault. Again.”
Like an echo, Hyunjin clicks his tongue back, and reaches around Minho to grab the edge of the ladle from the soup with his fingertips. It slips from his grip back into the soup several times, and Minho watches him dumbly before reaching for the tongs to get it out himself.
Despite his dirty fingers, Hyunjin mumbles, “Silly hyung,” and yawns into his shoulder.
He's so sick, his skin burning through Minho's shirt.
“Yeah,” Minho mumbles, peeling him off and settling him back on the couch, “Me. Silly me…”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Somewhere in his distant memory, Minho recalled threatening to punch Hyunjin in his stupid-perfect-dimpled-pearlie-white smile if he ever saw him again.
That thought was not what came to mind when he saw Hyunjin sitting at the bus stop with his foot propped up on the bench.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Jeongin was also there, leaned up against the bench, ignoring Hyunjin's whining to make bored expressions at the sky.
“Uh… what are you doing here?”
Hyunjin's face unexpectedly lit up first at the sight of him, before falling into a scowl. Jeongin's face remained neutral, his eyes taking on a slightly amused shade.
“Idiot sprained his ankle walking up. I carried him here, I refuse to take him further.”
Minho stared and blinked at them both, because they never ceased to be the most peculiar people Minho ever had the displeasure of knowing. These were the sorts of moments he would bemoan about to Chan, on why Chan couldn't go anywhere because otherwise Minho had no friends.
In the same thought, he wondered if Hyunjin and Jeongin would fit on his bike and he could manage to take them back home.
“Hyung. You're doing that creepy blinking thing at us again,” Hyunjin mumbled, waving a hand in his face.
Jeongin snorted, “He's considering giving us a ride on his bicycle. Because he's stupid like that.”
Double blinking, Minho remembered himself suddenly.
“Not anymore. Bye, hope the bus gets here before tomorrow.”
Hyunjin screeched, “Tomorrow?! Are you joking?! Jeongin, is he kidding, tell me he's joking!”
Walking back home, Minho couldn't remember the last time he laughed so much.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
If Jeongin's car started up, Hyunjin would have probably gathered the strength to go break it again himself.
Minho's couch is just unreasonably comfortable. He has no intention of leaving it again except to drag some bodies into it with him to warm up. He isn't particular about live or dead bodies, but that's likely the fever speaking; sane Hyunjin hates the nightmare of washing blood from upholstery.
“Sit up, drink this soup.”
Jeongin's tone is rough, but his actions are gentle as he maneuvers him to sit up. Felix immediately sits on his other side to prop him up, and Hyunjin soaks up his warmth like some malnourished vampire.
Wait… that doesn't make sense.
While his brain boots up, Jeongin shovels soup into him like he's a toddler, and it honestly pisses him off. He turns his head to make Jeongin stop so he has a moment to swallow and speak.
“Apologize,” he rasps out.
Jeongin frowns, “For what?”
“Being rude. To hyung.”
Jeongin rolls his eyes back into his head, “Hyung deserved it. Didn't he, Felix-hyung? Right? Felix is nodding, he agrees with me.”
Hyunjin grunts, pushing himself off Felix and away from Jeongin's prodding soup spoon.
“No. Apologize.”
Jeongin huffs, “What's wrong with you–”
“Don't act like me.”
Hyunjin doesn't mean for it to come out like that, but now that it has, he doubles down on it.
“Hyung doesn't know better, he lets us hurt him. Don't let him. You're the mature one. Apologize.”
Jeongin scowls, but he stops fighting Hyunjin.
The door opens quietly, and Minho shuffles his feet quietly.
“Felix, I, uh, tweaked some things in the car. Try and start it up again?”
Glancing between the three of them, Felix takes the chance to scramble. Minho stares at his feet for an uncomfortable amount of time, before trying to disappear into the floorboards and shadows.
“Wait–”
He freezes at Jeongin's voice.
Sighing, Jeongin drags his eyes up to him, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.”
Minho stares at him, unblinking, before responding quietly, “It's not… untrue.”
“Yes it is,” Jeongin fidgets with the hangnail on his pointer finger, avoiding Minho's eyes, “You're not avoiding anyone or anything, you're just a bit of a recluse. And we're not. And that's fine. It's always been fine, because you're actually better functioning than both of us, and we could learn a thing or two about saying less, I guess. So. Yeah. I'm sorry.”
Hyunjin hums, because it's certainly better than anything he could have come up with, and turns to look over his shoulder at Minho for approval.
Minho slow blinks, opening his mouth and closing it, once and then twice, before finally working up the voice to tell them–
“...Goodnight.”
As he melts into the shadows, up the staircase to his bedroom, Hyunjin's head spins and he looks down at Jeongin with a giddy smile.
“Nice. He forgave you.”
“Did he?”
“Don't overthink it, you know better,” head swimming, Hyunjin let the waterweight between his ears roll his head back till it fell on the couch, “ Ow . Now, tuck the sheets in, ‘m freezin…”
The quiet permeates through the dark, the rain droning on the roof, and behind it all, the steady sound of the waves hitting the cliffside. The ocean is dancing . Felix’s voice is quiet between it all when he comes back inside.
“The car works. But, uh, the roads are still flooded, so…
He’s waiting to see what Jeongin will say, but Jeongin’s already made up his mind, that stubborn expression on his face.
“It’s safer if we stay,” he mumbles.
Hyunjin strains to listen, as Minho finally leaves the top of the staircase to go to bed, Felix smiling at them and running up to go to bed himself.
Jeongin doesn’t say anything, but he does the dishes.
Somewhere in the back of his head as he starts to doze off, Hyunjin recalls that Jeongin likes watching the water swirl down the drain, a revelation that had made Minho scrunch his nose and declare him a servant to Minho for life since he hated doing dishes.
And that makes him smile.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Despite popular opinion, Hyunjin was not a total idiot.
“Minho's not going to date you.”
He watched as his sister's face crumbled, a small thread of hope clinging on for dear life as she looked at him.
“Are you… are you sure? I mean, we haven't… I haven't even really met him… not properly?”
“I'm sure,” he watched her deflate, “But, if it's any condolence, I know Chan mentioned your name at least three times at the senior brunch. So…”
He wasn't cruel either, waiting until Yeji's shoulders came up from their hunch just a little bit at the idea, something lighting behind her eyes.
Bedrest was honestly one of the best things to happen to Hyunjin. His mother brought him her old paint sets after she propped his foot up, and soon Hyunjin was planning compositions in his sleep. It made his father mumble about needing to have benched him sooner in football if this was all it took to calm him down.
Hyunjin didn't listen; he was too busy telling Jeongin to pose properly.
“Nose up, back… back again… tch, I'm going to have to call Minho-hyung to replace you, you're hopeless at keeping the same pose.”
“Well,” Jeongin side-eyed him, “You'll have him instead of me all the time very soon, when I leave you for my scholarship school.”
Hyunjin snorted, “As if you could ever leave this place. Who are you kidding, Yang Jeongin?”
Jeongin took a sharp breath, but didn't say anything more. They both knew Hyunjin was right anyway.
“Besides, Minho is worse than you,” Hyunjin leaned back to get a better look, “he can't sit still except if he's doing it for himself, that hyung is a cat… he likes making it difficult for me, he says it's a challenge.”
“Ah,” Jeongin leaned back, “Well that's a shame because–”
“What was that Hyunjin-ah? Calling your clients difficult?”
Hyunjin barely had time to react as Minho leaned over him and shoved his nose in his face, but when he stilled, Minho crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out to make him giggle.
Jeongin pulled him down to sit next to him.
“There, paint this face. This is a face made by God to be painted.”
Gaping, Minho shoved Jeongin lightly, the tips of his ears turning red. Hyunjin quickly mixed the shade and filled in his sketch.
“You're both ridiculous. Unbelievable.”
“Keep going,” Jeongin taunted, “You've had time to store up your synonyms. Impress us.”
“Indubitable. Irrefragable.” Minho leaned into Jeongin's space to make him uncomfortable and rolled his words over tongue and teeth, “In corrigible .”
He smiled silly, even as Jeongin shoved him in the face till he fell back.
Hyunjin leaned out from behind the easel and canvas.
“I rejected my sister for you by the way.”
“Oh. Nice.”
“You're welcome.”
“...Why?”
Hyunjin flung his paintbrush at him, and smiled as it painted his cheek pink.
Jeongin reached to wipe it off and only smeared it more.
Minho laughed at them both.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
When morning comes, Jeongin lays and stares at the ceiling for far too long. He's sure Minho notices when he comes down to start making eggs for breakfast, but he doesn't say a word.
Jeongin has a feeling it's because he did the same for several hours, since the sun first colored the horizon.
On the couch, Hyunjin snores loudly.
Jeongin wants to kick him.
“Sleep well?” Minho asks quietly.
Humming in response, Jeongin turns onto his stomach and stares at Minho as he cracks eggs with one hand onto the pan.
“...I'm not accepting my scholarship.”
Minho pauses, but only hums.
“...Hyung, you don't sound surprised.”
To this, Minho shrugs, “You never wanted to leave. It was Kim Seungmin, wasn't it? Brat.”
Jeongin stammers and stutters for a moment, “But… but I could have. Why couldn't I have?”
When Minho turns to look at him, it's with a softness in his eyes that he'd inherited from his grandmother.
“It's not in you to leave this island, Yang Jeongin. It never was. We're trapped here, the three of us, and only because we want to be.”
Jeongin stares at Minho's hands, and mumbles, “My halmoni would have said that it's because God ordained it, and our wills could never act outside of what God ordains.”
“I think she also would have said your will is never separated from your nature, and that you act according to your desires, not as a puppet on a string.”
That pulls a pin from Jeongin's tension as he deflates a little, glad that Minho seems to know the exact things that pull the anxiety from out beneath his feet.
“All that thinking, for what?” Minho shakes his head, “You're a smart boy. You earned a smart thing. And you're increasing the IQ of the island by staying with us. And that's that.”
Jeongin hums in agreement as Minho plates the eggs and brings them to the floor for the three of them. They turn to stare at Hyunjin as he sleeps, a drooling, snoring mess.
Suddenly, Jeongin wonders out loud– "Did his painting survive?”
Minho looks at Jeongin and his eyes widen, likely at the implication: Hyunjin will simply get himself into this mess all over again if he has no art to prove his hard work.
The thought makes them both leap to find Hyunjin's knapsack, pulling out his collapsed easel and paints, his damp sketchbook to set out and dry, and finally the wrapped frame of the canvas itself.
They unwrap it gingerly.
And gasp.
It's completely finished.
The cliffside of the island, overlooking the sea, the clouds gathered above with golden light breaking through, in three places: from the town below, from a little car traveling up the country road of the mountain, and through the windows of the little house on top.
“Do you like it?”
They startle and turn to Hyunjin, who sits with his head leaned over the top of the couch.
“It's a love letter,” he smiles, and they can see it and feel it in every stroke on the canvas.
“The island isn't that big,” Jeongin mumbles as he stares at it, caught in every little detail.
Minho smiles, voice quiet and reverent.
“It's big enough.”
Then Hyunjin hums.
And Jeongin cries.
Because he's never leaving.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
It was with bated breath Jeongin watched Hyunjin take the first bite. His face contorted, a habit of wearing his emotions on his face that he never outgrew as he turned to Minho seriously.
“No, I need to know who made this. It's too good.”
Minho rolled his eyes, but Jeongin hid his smile behind his hands.
“It's just fried rice. Don't be dramatic.”
Hyunjin slapped the table, startling Jeongin, and shook Minho's arms insistently.
“I'm telling you. I can taste these things. A kind person made this, it's too good, I need to meet them. Was it that boy from the deli shop? It was, wasn't it, I bet it was, he's got a cute face. Jisung, was it? Was it Jisung?”
Minho sighed with a fond smile, “No, not Jisungie.”
“No? Tch,” Hyunjin shoveled another spoonful and moaned in a sort of worshipful delight, “No, this is too good. I need to know. I'll die if I don't, I swear I will.”
“Good,” Minho scoffed, “Suffer.”
Leaning on his arms, Jeongin looked between them both, the salt off the breeze sticking to his skin and kissing him with the embrace of the island.
There was nowhere to go, time stood still here.
“Jeonginnie, tell me, tell hyung, I know you know.”
Jeongin smiled.
“It was Minho-hyung.”
For a moment, Jeongin reveled in Minho's speechlessness, as he did his slow blink at the unexpectedly nonchalant reveal, the pink crawling to his ears as Hyunjin stared at him in complete and utter awe and disbelief.
“No… no, not– this guy?”
Clicking his tongue, Minho got up abruptly with a firm declaration:
“I hate you.”
Then Jeongin burst out into laughter, following as Hyunjin lunged after Minho, wailing and pleading for forgiveness and promising to eat whatever he made to completion with the sort of sincerity and reverence Greek gods had for their favorites.
It's perfect and Jeongin decided right then and there that these were his people.
And he could never leave them.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟