Work Text
Yunho’s his everything; his friend, his partner, his lover, but he’s also just—
———
Shim Changmin is a loner. At 21, he’s a successful author and has a number of best-selling novels. He’s got plenty of people who claim to be his fans, who describes his work as nothing less than a masterpiece. Even with the facts practically shoved right into his face, he’s nonetheless a loner. The world isn’t fully aware that there’s a hidden aspect to being a writer. The world thinks all you do is just stay at home typing away on a computer for hours on end. They aren’t necessarily mistaken. Except, on weekdays Changmin forces himself awake to go to work. He sets 10 alarms starting at a quarter past seven with 5 minute intervals in between, only able to get up after the last annoying ring of the device. He showers, dresses, and then makes a double shot of espresso to awaken his mind more. He leaves for work at 9 o’clock and rides the crowded subway to go there. Once he gets there, he motivates himself to focus on whatever his editor is saying. But then when weekend comes he locks himself away at his apartment in uptown Seoul with nothing but a pen and his notebook. He wakes up first at 8 and sleeps in only be awoken again at noon by the sweet caress of a lover. During the day Changmin usually doesn’t come out of his room, imagination fuelling him further on to forget even the most basic necessities. He ends the day by falling to slumber with a soft kiss to his lips. On these sort of days, Changmin’s content to forget about what the real world wants from him. On these days, he’s willing to believe that Yunho’s all that matters most. He’s already halfway there to throwing all that remains of his soul and giving up the rest of it for Yunho. He pushes every single bit of his emotions out the window. That doesn’t mean it’s completely gone, though. Changmin feels all of it again each time he closes his eyes and hears nothing but the sound of his own breathing. He sometimes wonders, since when did solitude begin to feel this empty? So he learns to fight away his loneliness with what most adults his age won’t do. He makes a wish.
———
Changmin was once a hopeless child. It all began when he arrived on the first day of school. He introduced himself at the front of the class with a nervous grin on his face, “I’m Changmin and I will be joining you guys from now on. Please take care of me.” He’s put next to another student and Changmin’s beyond enthusiastic about sharing himself more. But that’s where he learned, not everyone’s willing to listen to him. Or rather, it’s too much to hope that his class will be able to accept a newcomer this easily. This continued further on until he was no longer a stranger. Having too vivid of an imagination made all his classmates push him away and mock him. He’s always alone. He has no friends. He’s such a weird kid. That’s what they all would gossip about behind his back. No one’s ever tried to tell them to be nicer to him. After all, kids will always be kids, they say, but Changmin’s pretty sure children weren’t supposed to know how to make another child feel this detached from his surroundings. It all eventually came to a point where he simply couldn’t bear it in anymore. So at 7 years old, with red eyes and a heart on the brink of shattering, Changmin makes a wish. He looks at the clock striking 11:11 and closes his eyes. I wish to never be alone.
———
At 23, Yunho’s made his mark in his home. It’s not as if Yunho’s never really stayed back with him, per se. It’s just because, Yunho’s not the one to stay in one place too often. He’s always on his feet, always leaving out the door with battered sneakers already laced up securely. But somehow things have changed. Yunho doesn’t go out as often as he used to. He’s always there when Changmin comes home. He’s always sat beside the large window at his living room, on the stool of his kitchen island, or in front of the TV watching drama reruns. He’s there to greet him with that thousand watt smile of his. Yunho’s there when Changmin tells him all about his day and what happened throughout it. But what Changmin loves most about him is how Yunho will then stand up and walk over to him. He’s going to smile at him and give a warm kiss. Changmin kisses back despite the tiredness protesting, letting his lips linger on Yunho’s for one too many seconds longer. He excuses himself to shower and get ready for bed. Yunho nods in understanding and waits for Changmin to finish in their shared bedroom. Once he’s done he wastes no time in getting underneath the covers and snuggling against the body beside him. If his life was a movie, then he should find no trouble in falling asleep ever since he’s comfortable on the bed. But that rarely happens — he finds himself still wide awake even with Yunho’s arms wrapped nice and warm around him. It’s during these moments where his mind wanders aimlessly. Changmin thinks of too many things at once; what he’s planning to do the next day, when’s his next deadline, and more. It’s not a rare occurrence that he thinks of Yunho. He ponders on Yunho’s existence and what he means in Changmin’s life. Perhaps, Yunho isn’t just his partner. Partners aren’t supposed to be there to greet one another after a long tiring day. Maybe he’s more — maybe he’s just Changmin’s muse, or maybe even more than that. Maybe, just maybe, Yunho’s his forever. It makes him want to say it out loud to the whole universe, to tell every soul on Earth that Yunho’s meant to be his and vice versa. But he starts off simple, he begins to type some trademark words on the first page of every single one of his ongoing books — “The countless wishes I’ve made is only for you. To my whole world, the light of my life, Jung Yunho”
———
At 12, Changmin’s significantly happier. Sure, he has only a handful of people he knows well. Changmin doesn’t have much of a social life, but that’s okay. It’s all good, because he now has one person he can call a friend. Jung Yunho. That’s his name. Older than him by two years, sweet as taffy, and has a beautiful heart that’s already his. Changmin spends his bleak school days with Yunho almost always. They become nearly inseparable — where you see Changmin you would see Yunho with him as well. Changmin tells his mom excitedly about what he and Yunho did at school without fail. He tells her of what they did during recess, what they talked about, what they learnt that day — if Mrs Shim could list down every single thing her son mentioned to her about him and his friend Yunho she would likely finish all the paper available in the world. The way Yunho brings so much cheer into his life makes him feel the lightest, most warm emotion he knows of in his young age. Yunho’s all that Changmin isn’t and it shouldn’t even be possible for them to even be friends but they make it work. They fit together effortlessly well, slip-sliding into each other’s life as if they were destined to. Yunho’s sugar, spice, and everything nice and Changmin is already more than in love. It doesn’t come as shocking when Changmin makes one small wish. I wish Yunho would be only mine.
———
Lazy mornings are the sort of moments Changmin wants to live for. It’s a great thing to have, a sort of cheap thrill he loves. One thing that makes Changmin like it so much is waking up next to Yunho. He wakes up facing him with the older man’s arm thrown carelessly around him. Their legs tangle together under the sheets. Sunlight streams through the partly closed blinds and gives an ethereal glow to everything it hits. Yunho perpetually wakes up earlier than him. He coaxes Changmin out of sleep with promises of doing whatever the younger wants to that day. As he flutters awake, Yunho tucks his hair behind his ear and Changmin smiles in response. Yunho kisses his forehead rather sweetly and hugs him closer. He usually doesn’t stay awake for long. Changmin lulls back to sleep not long after, too content and at the same time too lethargic to move from his current position. He closes his eyes and lets his mind travel into a land of dreams. But, as expected, Yunho’s presence follows him into his dreams. He dreams of them doing everything and nothing. He dreams and sees Yunho as a constant in his unconscious mind. He stays there with a sunshine smile that’s for no one else but Changmin. Sometimes too, reality finds its way into his mind. When it comes into his thoughts and hits at the right spots, Changmin hurts. He sees Yunho as only a dark glimpse far away from him. Changmin hides his face in his arms and clutches at any tangible surface as if it’s his lifeline. Yunho’s figure flickers and becomes a glitched form whenever he looks straight at him. His hand that tries to comfort Changmin feels like an ice cold touch. Although these bad dreams never last too long, they always imprint themselves so deep into his mind. It makes him shudder in slight fear and trap his limbs in the safety of his bedsheets. So at 27, Changmin sneaks a glance at the digital clock when it strikes 11:11 a.m. and pleads.
I wish to be reminded of what’s really there.
———
At 16, Changmin’s life is nearly ideal. He’s a top student in his class, all straight A’s with a guarantee of going to a top university. He’s got a few close friends, though not much it’s a vast improvement compared to a few years back. And on top of that he actually has a boyfriend. That’s right — young, unsociable Changmin is surprisingly not single. Who’s the lucky guy? It’s no other than his Yunho. He fondly recalls the times where they both skipped class to have a date of sorts. Changmin remembers when they held hands on the way back home. He remembers Yunho kissing him silly under the pouring rain. He cherishes every single memory they’ve made together dearly. Reflecting back on them will always cheer Changmin up to no end. It’s his most effective way of unwinding after a long day of lessons and assignments. Then again, Yunho really is his only method of ending each passing day. He makes Changmin so joyful to the extent where it’s unbelievable that he used to be the sad kid from 5 years ago. It’s no surprise then that Changmin only wants to feel this way for as long as he possibly can. He shuts his eyes and crosses his fingers (there’ll be double the luck, he’s sure) to make a wish yet again. I wish Yunho would last forever.
———
At 31, Changmin isn’t sure what sanity is anymore. He’s quite sure that in his head the lines between real and imaginary blur together until there’s no trace left behind. It becomes hard to distinguish between the two. Especially when it comes to Yunho. Every single time he tries to avoid thinking of Yunho his mind will always find its way back to him. Changmin’s head feels heavy when he’s not with him but it goes spinning a tad too quick when Yunho’s there with him. Changmin’s exhausted of this — of spending his whole life leaning onto someone who’s never really there. Of fooling himself to believe a blatant lie that takes form as his Yunho. He’s tired of having too much faith in whatever mess he’s made. After all, he’s never been a good liar. He may be stubborn and strong-willed but he’s also only just a truthful man. Just human, with flesh and bones and a heart filled by too much love for his body to contain. He’s reminded of the desperate 7 year old kid he used to be. The kid who made the innocent wish of wanting a companion. The innocent child who started off by asking for no more than a friend. The child that grew greedy and wanted that friend to only look at him, smile at him, be with him. Changmin cries, fat tears spilling on his cheeks and falling down his face. If he tries hard enough he can see, even feel, Yunho’s thumb wiping the wetness away. Yunho’s voice is the only thing that registers in his mind. “Changmin, please stop crying,” he begs. But he does otherwise, sobs loud and ugly as he’s held in Yunho’s arms. Yunho soothingly rubs Changmin’s back as a mean of comfort, but all it does is make Changmin cry harder. And suddenly, be it coincidence or fate, Changmin’s gaze lands on the clock, coincidentally the time is exactly 11:11 —he makes a wish. I wish to know what’s real. He chants it like a mantra in his head as Yunho hugs him close. Changmin tucks his head into his chest and grips tight onto his shirt. But when his hands suddenly clutch at nothingness, Changmin looks up. He sees Yunho give him a bitter smile. He leans closer to kiss Changmin on the lips and he pushes back, desperately wanting to feel all that Yunho’s offering him. Time stretches itself out to the furthest length it can go. And as his eyes blink open Yunho fades away, gone, exactly as Changmin’s wished him to do.
———
—a mere wish, and now simply a memory.