Chapter Text
Yeonjun’s arms were around him in seconds, catching him before his knees hit the floor, but it was too late - Soobin remembered everything. The way he froze upon seeing Yeonjun’s body, the fear, the disgust, the belief that Beomgyu had been right when he attacked him, that he would also never forgive himself for letting Yeonjun get to the point where he couldn’t carry on any longer. He had done this. For all of Yeonjun’s kind words now, he knew he had done this. He had been alone this entire time, talking to nobody. The boy talking back to him had died fifteen years ago. And it was Soobin’s fault.
“Listen to me, Soobin, listen to me,” Yeonjun was saying, pushing Soobin’s hair back, trying to get his eyes on him. The sound of cracking wood was getting louder and louder, but the wind was dying down. Soobin felt cold. He felt so much nothingness. “Soobin, please, this wasn’t on you. You didn’t do this. It was my choice, one I didn’t think through. Part of me really expected to live. Soobin, I’m sorry I left, I’m so sorry, please understand-”
“You died.” Soobin said weakly, still not able to look at Yeonjun, no matter how hard he tried. “You died. How are you here? You died.”
“This wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Yeonjun tried again. “Please see that. You didn’t do this. You didn’t.”
“I saw you at graduation…”
“No, Soobin…”
“I wanted to see you so much.”
“I know…”
“I missed you so much.”
“I know…”
“I couldn’t-” Soobin remembered. “I couldn’t cope. They put me in a hospital.” Soobin had been so haunted by images of Yeonjun’s death that he had never, in fact, graduated with his class, only attending university from a hospital bed, once his high school exams were taken a year later. He had spent years in the psychiatric ward, until one day he stopped talking about Yeonjun, politely asking when he was going to be going home. He stopped screaming in the night, cried a lot less, inquired about his three friends. He would comment on Yeonjun leaving them, wondering why he never came to visit. His mind had locked the death away, protecting him from the ongoing pain. It was the only way he could cope with what had happened: the guilt, the grief, the pain.
“It was for the best, while you were alive.” Yeonjun told him, stroking his hair. Yeonjun used to visit him at night, this very same Yeonjun. He was usually screaming at him, blood pouring out of his mouth, down his front, demanding to know why Soobin had let him die. He wasn’t screaming anymore. He wanted to help.
Soobin looked up into his eyes, hair falling in his way. He looked down at his own arms, high school uniform in place, joints less painful, the boy who had lost his first love. He pulled Yeonjun close to him, breathed in deeply. All he smelled was smoke. He couldn’t remember how Yeonjun smelled. It had been too long.
One Christmas, years after he had been released from hospital, after he had met his ex-wife, when they were still married, she had found something she thought would be a lovely gift. An aftershave with a fresh scent. It had been fairly cheap, but smelled expensive. She had added it to her cart, not thinking about it again until Soobin was unwrapping it. He had taken the lid off, sniffed the liquid, then promptly dropped the bottle, his eyes wide. He started breathing very heavily, tears starting to form, apologising to no one, hands pulling at his own hair. She couldn’t have known that she had accidentally bought him the same aftershave his dead first love had used, the same smell that he had desperately searched for in the sweater he slept with for three years, the only thing he had left of Yeonjun. The letter had been cried on too much to be held together for more than six months. Soobin still kept the remaining scrap safe, no longer sure what the letters meant of who had sent it to him. He knew he had to keep it safe, and that was all.
“How did I forget-”
“You had to.” Yeonjun told him, still stroking his hair. “You had to, Soobin. I’m sorry to make you remember.”
Soobin squeezed his eyes shut, tight. He couldn’t get the image of Yeonjun’s dead body out of his mind, the smell of blood, Beomgyu’s hands around his throat -
Nothing else of Yeonjun’s remained. His father, in his drunken grief, had opened the gas tap in the kitchen, hoping to choke to death. His wife had had other ideas, though, lighting a match once she smelled what was going on. The small apartment had instantly burst into flames, damaging several neighboring homes. Everything in Yeonjun’s room had been burned away to nothing. There had been no funeral held, just a small service for the three of them together. Yeonjun didn’t have a personal grave. Soobin never found out what happened to his body.
It hurt, not having anywhere to visit.
~
School was, of course, cancelled.
Kai sat in his room, staring at the wall. He couldn’t quite process what he had seen. Yeonjun had been here, in this very room, on Saturday evening. Not even 36 hours earlier. He had been here. He had told Kai that he would see him later, but that had been a lie. Kai hadn’t even replied with a full sentence, just an ‘uh-huh’. That was the last thing he said to Yeonjun. ‘Uh-huh.’
He put his face in his hands, trying to focus on his memories of Yeonjun alive. His voice, his laugh, how his hugs felt. He couldn’t help but feel that this was his doing somehow - had he been at school for the past week, maybe he could have fixed this. Saved him, even. If he had just insisted Yeonjun stay at his place Saturday night, into Sunday day time, maybe he never would have gone to school early, never would have done what he did. If he had been awake the last time he was at Beomgyu’s, if he hadn’t been having seizures, maybe he could have stopped the fight, kept things together, kept things sane, comforted Soobin into being more secure about how relationship with Yeonjun, something, anything -
There was no point thinking that - it didn’t help. But these thoughts were bouncing around Kai’s head every day for years. He could have done something. He could have made a difference.
He would never let his own health harm someone else ever again.
~
Nothing mattered anymore. Beomgyu had run away from home the same night they had found Yeonjun. Taehyun almost agreed to go with him. He couldn’t feel anything - he had run away. Fled the scene. But he had seen, had seen far too much. Yeonjun had meant the world to him, to all of them. If there was one person he thought would understand him, would listen to him, would let him cry on them, it was Yeonjun - and now he was gone. A huge emptiness filled Taehyun up. When his mother softly called him down for dinner, he ignored her. She had understood, leaving him to his own thoughts, but as days passed by, as Beomgyu appeared in their house, completely unkempt and needing a place to stay for a few weeks, as they had spent their nights not talking, just squashed up in the same single bed, staring into each other’s eyes, Taehyun crying softly - when he still couldn’t eat after all that, she got worried.
Wednesdays passed with no visitor, the house feeling far too quiet. Taehyun couldn’t stomach anything. It wasn’t about control anymore - he simply didn’t have the will to keep himself alive. No matter how many times his family begged him, no matter how many times Beomgyu threatened him, he simply couldn’t do it. Until he blacked out in the middle of a conversation with his dad, slamming into the floor mid speech, no one knew how to help him. Until he could barely breathe, until his heart was racing, desperately trying to keep his malnourished body alive, no one knew what they could do. Until he was sent to the hospital, kept there for far longer than anyone had expected, he couldn’t be helped. Until they had been told how close to death he had really been, no one really took his condition seriously.
Against the doctor’s advice, Beomgyu would push him to the side, lie on his hospital bed with him, and stare at him. They didn’t talk much anymore. They didn’t need to. Taehyun knew what he was thinking: ‘you selfish fuck. You’re as bad as Yeonjun.’ Which was fair - he was. For a long time, Taehyun would dream about meeting Yeonjun in the afterlife, in heaven, whatever it was. He would dream that he had lost his corporeal form, could spend his days looking out for his friends and family from beyond the grave, his close friend there with him every second. It had seemed so nice when he was dreaming, nice enough to make him push his breakfast away the next morning. No matter how nice it was, however, his doctor’s were better. Taehyun spent years in recovery, but after the first six months, the words started to make sense to him.
He started to try.
~
Run.
Leave.
Get out.
Go to him.
Beomgyu could think about nothing else. It was run or kill Soobin, and the part of him that still loved his friend wasn’t ready to let him take his anger out completely.
He couldn’t think, he couldn’t risk feeling - there was just too much. He didn’t go home when everyone else left school. He didn’t go home for months. The first place he went was to Yeonjun’s house. He couldn’t get in, Yeonjun’s parents were out at work - but being close to where he had spent so much time helped. He stayed outside of their front door until Yeonjun’s mother came home in the middle of the day, eyes wide, tears streaming down her face. She had been called, then.
She didn't let Beomgyu inside. She had demanded he leave. He did as he was told, heading out to find somewhere to stay, anywhere. He made his way to the river, imagining jumping in, letting it wash him away. He couldn’t cope with this. He had screamed at the river side, had thrown his shoes into the water in rage, had filled his pockets with rocks, had started climbing the bridge. The police were called. He ran again.
He spent a whole week outside, barely eating, barely sleeping. Just walking from one place to another, looking for somewhere he could sit, just for a minute. Somewhere he could think about Yeonjun. Somewhere he could think about nothing.
After seven full days of this, he went to Taehyun’s house.
Once Taehyun was hospitalised, Beomgyu didn’t feel like he could stay in his house. He relied on drink to much at this point, the only thing that really hid the noise. He knew Yeonjun would be disappointed in him. He would talk to him from time to time, though he knew no one was really there. It was comforting.
Beomgyu hit the streets again, ready to face the world alone. To hide from the pain, to take whatever was offered to him. Anything to escape.
Anything to escape.
~
“I couldn’t help them.” Soobin cried into Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I couldn’t help them. They were all hurting so much, and I did nothing. I stayed in bed for weeks. I couldn’t-”
“You could barely help yourself.” Yeonjun pointed out, pulling Soobin’s face away from his shoulder. “You weren’t eating. You weren’t sleeping. The night terrors were so bad your mom genuinely thought you were dying. Several times.” his eyes softened. “It wasn’t your place to help them, Soobin. None of you could be the support you each needed. I took too much away from you all. I’m so sorry.”
Soobin looked up at Yeonjun. “I still don’t understand why…”
“I was so unhappy, Soobin. I wanted someone to help me.”
“Not that, I… I understand that, I think....” Soobin pushed Yeonjun’s hair out of his eyes, mimicking what the other had done to him moments before. “Why am I seeing this now? Where am I? What is all of this?”
Yeonjun looked around the classroom, searching for a clue of some sorts. It was their classroom, the one he had died in - it had been the whole time. Yeonjun looked at the big window behind him. “I don’t know how to explain,” he admitted, “but we need to look outside. I know that much.”
“What..?”
Yeonjun stood up. “They’re outside. Come here.” Yeonjun held his hand out behind him, not looking at Soobin. Soobin took it.
There was a familiar street outside, littered with people he felt like he should recognise. Three men in their thirties were stood as close as they could get to the front door of the banquet hall. The fire seemed to be out, Soobin noted. He wondered if he had passed out, if he was going to be found.
Taehyun started pashing against the man holding him ridiculously hard, a strength Soobin was shocked to see he now had. He was trying to reach something, something at the door. Soobin couldn’t see what. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry. He wanted to tell Kai he remembered, that it hadn’t been his fault. He wanted to hug Beomgyu, to cry with him, but more than anything to apologise.
“Will they hear me if I call to them?” he asked, not looking at Yeonjun. His hand was squeezed.
“No, baby.” Yeonjun said softly. He had never called him baby when he was alive. Soobin quite liked the name.
“How can I tell them I’m sorry? When can I go back?”
Yeonjun looked at him for a moment, but Soobin didn’t look back. He saw Yeonjun’s hand come up, pointing towards the front door, towards what Taehyun was so desperate to reach.
A white body bag was being taken out of the building.
Soobin stared at it, trying not to jump to conclusions. “Another death…? We can’t avoid it, can we?”
Yeonjun squeezed his hand again. “Soobin, do you know who is in that body bag?”
Soobin knew. He lied, shaking his head.
“How did you get out of the supply closet, Soobin?”
“You pulled me out through a door in the back.” Soobin said.
“What door? It’s a supply closet.” Yeonjun pointed out. “And I’ve been dead for a long time.”
“Fifteen years.” Soobin said, not helping anything.
“You couldn’t get out, Soobin.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, I guess you did eventually…” Yeonjun said, indicating the body being put into the back of an ambulance. “You were found after a while. Beomgyu wouldn’t stop trying to get inside, so they went looking for you. The door had burned down by the time they got the fire under control enough to get inside. Sorry, you probably don’t want to-”
“I need to hear it.” Soobin said. He was still watching the scene outside. Beomgyu was on his knees, staring at the back of the ambulance. He wasn’t crying, but he looked numb, broken. Taehyun was screaming, Kai holding him as best he could.
Four became three.
“Was it the fire or the smoke that got me?” Soobin asked. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know, but he definitely did.
“I’m not sure…” Yeonjun said. Liar.
“Liar.”
Yeonjun huffed at him. “I don’t wanna think about it. It’s too sad.”
“It’s my body.” he squeezed the hand in his, finally turning to Yeonjun. “Tell me.”
Yeonjun was quiet for a moment, thinking. Finally he replied, “The smoke made you pass out. I think that’s when I found you. The fire killed you, though. In the end, it was the fire.”
Soobin was quiet, just watching Yeonjun. “Your parents and I have something in common.” That was unnecessary.
Yeonjun gave him a look. “Great, perfect, thanks for reminding me…”
“Sorry, sorry…” Soobin laughed lightly. It felt weird. He had just seen his own body being taken away, but he was laughing..? “So, what are we then? Am I an angel?”
“You wish.” Yeonjun scoffed. “You aren’t anything. I don’t know what you would call this.” The watch on Yeonjun’s wrist, the one he used to set in the bathroom after working, started beeping. He checked it, sore softly, then turned it off. “Time’s up, baby.”
“For what?” Soobin asked.
“Class is over.” Yeonjun smiled brightly. “We’re gonna be late. And today we have something to celebrate.”
“We do?”
“Sure do.” Yeonjun said.
“Me dying…?”
Yeonjun pulled his hand out of Soobin’s hold, smacking him lightly on the chest. “No, dummy.” Yeonjun wrapped his arms around Soobin’s neck. “... Friendship.”
Soobin smiled, rubbing his nose lightly against Yeonjun’s. “Our friendship ended a long time ago, remember?”
Yeonjun hummed, looking at Soobin’s lips. “If you don’t kiss me,” he threatened, “I’m gonna leave you here in purgatory.”
“Sounds very badass.” Soobin replied, placing his lips lightly against Yeonjun’s. The smoke was fading, now, the smell of Yeonjun flooding his senses. He felt safe. He felt at home.
Yeonjun released his hold around Soobin’s neck, taking his had again. He tugged on it lightly, heading towards the front of the classroom. But the classroom had gone - all Soobin could see was a large set of white steps, a big door at the top.
“Where does that lead to?” Soobin asked, awestruck.
“Dunno,” Yeonjun admitted, “I was never allowed up.”
Soobin stopped walking, staring at Yeonjun. “Have you been waiting for me this whole time?” he asked, dumbfounded.
Yeonjun shrugged one shoulder. “Couldn’t very well rest with no grave and all that unfinished business flying around. I thought this was it. Then I heard you on the other side of the door. Now the stairs are back. I’m trying not to question things too much.”
Soobin nodded, not fully understanding, but happy to accept anything Yeonjun said to him. “I have one more question-”
“We’re out of time, Soobin-”
“Do you still feel the same way about me? As you did in high school?”
Yeonjun gave him a blank look. “That’s your question? Really?”
“Well?” Soobin prompted.
Yeonjun sighed, rolling his eyes. “Obviously I do, stupid.”
Soobin smiled, squeezing Yeonjun’s hand. “Good.” he said quietly. “Me too.”
And he meant it.
Yeonjun lead him up the stairs in front of them as everything else faded to black. Soobin slightly regretted not checking back on his friends one last time before he made his way up. They slipped through the door, hand in hand, together.
There was nothing more they could do for their friends on Earth.