Realistic or Modern cold just like december

[pasta]

Cold just like December - pasta x reveriee

 

[pasta]

CHAPTER ONE

The Beginning

Sangwoo abruptly plops back into Kijung's life after a year of studying abroad with the hopes of getting back together. Unfortunately, it's never that simple.

 

[pasta]

Lee Sangwoo - THE EX

Twinkling lights hung in glossy shop windows, red noses buried under scarfs, silent petals of snow covering the patches of exposed slimy, yellowed grass; it all breathed Christmas. For the first few days back in Korea, he was stuck with chaotic room service, lukewarm alcohol, stuffy heat, and sandpaper-like hotel towels. As much as the hotel disappointed him, he was home. He missed it, the city, that lousy apartment, his parents (surprisingly), but he missed Kijung most of all, and it was all back in his tight grasp -- or so he thought. It would only be time before he was utterly heartbroken by the thing he was most enthralled by as the only excuse he crutched on was pulled from under him.

France was great -- it was unreal even. The food, the atmosphere, the classes, all combined into a cherishable memory. The only problem was the lonely nights. He was accustomed to sleeping beside another person and could never get quite used to sleeping in an empty bed. The heartbreak really hit him during those nights, and he often fantasized about leaving early and getting back home as soon as possible. But, he ended up staying the full year plus an extra week, for he knew he would miss France just the same.

Sangwoo was back, back at that lousy apartment. There was stuffiness in the moose-brown carpet and beer-yellow walls that he once hated, but over his time in France, he had grown to appreciate it and long for it. The rhythmic hum of the radiator sang lowly in the hallway. He stood at the door of the apartment with a cocksure attitude and a pink-themed bouquet in his hand. The arrangement of flowers was supposed to signify his undying love for his ex; pink lisianthus, roses, silver dollars, veronicas, dahlias all put together in a lovely arrangement. The man was starting to dislike his floral choices -- they didn’t match the drab apartment hallway and look out of place. It was fine though, Kijung would probably fawn over them regardless, right?

He dressed sharp, all black, a lowkey flex of his status, and he wore the same enchanting smile to hide his seething insecurity. And, after a few moments of replaying everything he would say to Kijung in his head, he knocked on the door.

But, his ex-boyfriend didn’t answer the door, just some random loser with a shitty haircut. His gum-chewing slowed down as he stared down the dude with a mixture of irritation and disgust. First thought: who the fuck is this? Second thought: Kijung is cheating -- as if they were even together to cheat. But, he kept his cool just in case his assumption was wrong. “Kijung here?” He asked bluntly, zero politeness in his voice, only clear vexation at the inconvenience.

“I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong apartment?”

The wrong apartment -- it wasn’t the wrong apartment. His eyes flicked to the numbers on the door, and it was their old apartment all right. He let out a sharp, annoyed breath of air as his minty gum rolled around his tongue, freshening up his tastebuds. “Whatever,” he deadpanned, turning on his heels to get the hell out of there. The man would just have to find his ex-boyfriend through mutual friends, and that wouldn’t be unmanageable.
---
It turned out Kijung relocated onto campus, which wasn’t too far from where Sangwoo was thankfully. It was only a bus ride away, and as much as bus rides irked him, he was willing to take one to reach campus. Why would he move out, though? The heating messed up again, maybe or were the walls too thin? It was a little upsetting to see someone new lodging in the place they called home; so many recollections were etched into the drywall. Regardless, his beau was back in his sight.

The bitter cold bit at his skin, turning his limbs numb with each second as it reached through his clothes to enclose its clutch around him tightly. Hands taking turns between holding the bouquet and relishing in the warmth of his deep coat pockets, while his whole body shook. It was late in the day, and the sky had already transitioned from a burning gold to a deep twilight, but silent petals continued to drift down to the city like little white bouquets in the snowy dark. He stared at the dorm building for a few moments before venturing inside.

He swore to god as he stood in front of the door that if Kijung wasn’t there, Sangwoo would lose it; he wasn’t going to hop from place to place only to be disappointed further and further. Not to mention, if he spoke to enough friends about his plan, it would get leaked to his ex, and the surprise would be ruined. Bouncing from place to place would take too long, and the pricey bouquet would wilt and rot. It was already not looking as fresh and vibrant as it was hours before.

After a fresh gum stick, he rapt lightly against the campus room doorway with all the confidence and arrogance in the world. He stepped back from the door, hand gripping the arrangement of flowers loosely as he waited for the door to swing open. Was he nervous? Not at all. He was thrilled actually to see Kijung. It wasn’t a secret that Sangwoo was highly obsessive and possessive and was the sole reason the relationship was toxic. But, he was blind to it and saw nothing wrong with his behavior, nor did he realize Kijung was probably better off without him.

reveriee

 

[reveriee]

location

his dorm room

tags

pasta

SHIN KIJUNG ❆

SHIN KIJUNG ❆

SHIN KIJUNG ❆

"Oh my fucking god, Kijung-hyung! You're a godsend, thank you."

Kijung couldn't help but preen a bit at Byungho's words. It had been a long day of nonstop studying and the winter cold biting at his limbs. Kijung felt distinctly weighed down, as if a heavy blanket of snow overlayed his core, and he could practically feel the tug of his dark undereye bags; yet Byungho's kind words that were spilling out of his mouth in a stream of rapid-fire compliments, his tone sunshiney and bright, was enough for Kijung too feel physically lightened.

"Thank you so so so much, but oh my god, I'm so sorry for taking up so much of your time --" Byungho gestured wildly at their surroundings "-- and your space, too! You're so nice, hyung, to let me into your dorm this late to help me out."

Kijung shook his head frantically, settling his hand on Byungho's shoulder in reassurance. "Don't worry about it," he said, his tone soft from his overall weariness. "I'm glad to help."

Byungho frowned, and Kijung could tell that the younger boy took his tone of voice the wrong way. "No, no, no, I take up too much of your time and you help me so much without getting anything in return," he refuted, his words set with stubbornness and an air of finality.

Before Kijung could refuse once again, Byungho clapped dramatically, a devious glint in his eye. "I usually don't do this for people," he began, wagging a finger in Kijung's face when the latter continued his pointless attempt at veering Byungho off of whatever train of thought he was on. "But you're definitely not most people, hyung. If anything, you're the only person I know who actually deserves this."

Byungho leaned forward, lowering his tone to a whisper. "You know my uncle owns a bunch of hospitals across the country, right?"

I don't know where this is going, but I'm not liking it.

Byungho continued rambling without pause, giving Kijung absolutely no openings to interject. "Of course you do. I'm Kwon Byungho -- everyone on this campus knows my uncle."

Kijung had nothing to respond with. It was true -- Byungho was the prolific nephew of one of the wealthiest businessmen in the country, who just so happened to have a large slice of the healthcare pie. Byungho was popular, and while his bright demeanor did nothing to deter his campus fame, much of his status was due to his family, and all the people who wanted to take advantage of that. Kijung felt equal parts sympathy for Byungho and disgust at those who kept trying to grovel at the younger's feet in hopes that they could use his connections for their own gain.

"I'll put in a good word for you to my uncle!" Byungho continued cheerily, seeminly unaware of the apparent alarm etched into Kijung's expression. "Of course, I can't say it's really that much of a favor, 'cause I'd do it any-"

"No!" Byungho fell silent at Kijung's sharp interjection. Kijung tried to keep his tone nice and polite and pleasant, but there was a heavy knot of disapproval in the back of his throat at the fact that Byungho could even suggest him doing such a thing. "I don't want your recommendation, Byungho-yah. I can make it up there through my own hard work."

"Well, I know you can! You're really diligent and put-together and one of the top students in this school, which is why you deserve this so much more!"

"No, Byungho. Stop it."

The following silence after Kijung's forceful words was deafening, and he could tell that Byungho felt personally hurt. Kijung sighed and softened his tone. "I'm really grateful that you think so highly of me. But I don't want to achieve my goals through someone's connections."

Kijung didn't think himself to be excessively prideful, but one thing everyone knew about him was that he didn't like shortcuts. Shortcuts were cheating, and cheating tainted an accomplishment and corrupted it. Kijung never wanted anyone's money --

(perhaps it was unreasonable, but Kijung's thoughts immediately flashed to Sangwoo -- wealthy, privileged Sangwoo who gave up his life of luxury and indulgence to move in with him and work a job in customer service, of all things)

-- nor did he need any connections. He was a lower-middle-class child of two standard workers in a completely different industry, and that was fine. Kijung didn't need some of the natural advantages a few of his classmates had to succeed. That's what he told himself all his life, and he wouldn't abandon his values despite the glaring opportunity.

"I just want to help," Byungho suddenly spoke up, his voice a low murmur. "You helped me so much, and I can't even do anything for you in return. All I have is my uncle, and I know that's not your vibe, but please, hyung, maybe just sit on it --"

Byungho's words were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door of the dorm room, and Kijung immediately felt a wave of relief, like a dam had broken under the push and pull of the anxious waters inside of it. Immediately afterward, he felt a tug of surprise and suspicion in his chest. Yes, he had a roommate, but he was rarely ever there (whatever he did during the recesses of night, Kijung wasn't sure, but he wasn't curious enough to find out). And it was rare for any of his friends to barge into his space spontaneously -- they knew Kijung liked his schedules.

Kijung didn't know what came over him to compel him into not even taking a quick glance through the peephole before opening the door. He regretted it instantly. The sight before him caused his heart to stutter, his breaths to halt like they were frozen in the icy cold, his eyes to widen, and the hand that grasped the door handle to tremble imperceptibly.

Perhaps Kijung was being dramatic -- yes, that's what he concluded when blood started pumping against his skull and a loud, persistent ringing lingered in his ears. But if there was anything Kijung hated, it was surprises. He liked to be prepared, to be in control; life was a carefully organized mise-en-place, a perfectly planned operation. It was okay if things went wrong -- Kijung had endless backup plans and safety nets. Even if there were things he didn't happen to consider, Kijung was rarely ever truly caught off guard.

But of course, it was different this time.

"Sangwoo?" Kijung choked the two syllables out, his voice more of a breath than anything else. The single word that was ever familiar from his past slipped out of his mouth with the heavy tang of bittersweet nostalgia.

Why the hell is Sangwoo at my dorm -- on campus, even? Kijung numbly came to the realization that it had been about a year since Sangwoo left for France -- a year since their breakup. He didn't know why it didn't strike him before; the air was growing colder with the bite of snow in the air, and intemittently, Kijung would feel flashes of yearning nostalgia as he passed by coffee shops with garlands strung around their exteriors, or when he heard the giggling of children in a nearby ice rink. Sangwoo's absense was less of a gaping hole that it was even a month ago, but the holiday season always brought back formerly joyous memories that were merely gray husks of what they had been.

Why is he even here? He cut things off a damn year ago, Kijung couldn't help the bitter hurt from invading his thoughts. It was then that Kijung finally noticed the bouquet of pinks and whites and silvers clutched in Sangwoo's hands. What? Why?

"Kijung-hyung? Is everything all right?"

Ah, yes. Byungho was still in the room. Kijung turned his head, the sensation painstakingly hollow; the dark, swirling waters of his emotions were mitigated when Kijung finally relieved himself of staring at Sangwoo's beautiful face and oh-so-familiar form, but strangely enough, his chest felt even emptier when he looked away, as if his body wanted Kijung to throw himself back into the source of his heartbreak.

"Yeah, of course." Byungho's eyebrows furrowed, and the look he gave Kijung was clearly disbelieving. Kijung felt a sudden rush of fondness for the younger boy -- he was only what? Nineteen, twenty? Byungho had no place in the convoluted, emotionally-charged issues of his senior.

"Byungho-yah, don't worry," Kijung cooed. He was so very aware of Sangwoo's persistent presence in his doorway, but he was still dumbfounded on how to handle it; Byungho seemed like someone much easier to confront in the moment.

"I think you should go now -- it's getting late," Kijung continued. "It's important to get proper rest before that big exam of yours."

Byungho still looked unconvinced, and Kijung couldn't really blame him; he always wore his emotions on his sleeve, and it was moments like these that he cursed his revealing expressions.

Before he knew it, Kijung was pushed into a hug, Byungho's arms gripping him for a few brief moments like a child holding his teddybear to his chest. He really is young, Kijung thought off-handedly, his feelings towards the younger boy affectionate and vaguely reminiscent of how he felt towards Soojung and Hojung.

Kijung couldn't see how Byungho was acting towards Sangwoo, and he didn't have much time to linger on it before the younger released him, departing hesitantly with a wave. On the way out, Byungho bumped into Sangwoo's form, which immediately brought Kijung back to the issue at hand.

"Sangwoo," he said politely, with the perfect manners so characteristic of Kijung throughout his lifetime. "What are you doing here?"

coded by reveriee

 

[pasta]

Yeah, I broke your heart like someone did to mine
And now you won't love me for a second time

Lee Sangwoo

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, going to France and all -- a regrettable one at that. Sangwoo had come upon the establishment. He was browsing internet forums about business school while Kijung was asleep beside him one night. He had lazily filled out an application -- not actually thinking he would be allowed to finish school there, but much to his surprise, he could. For a while, he was considering not going. But weeks passed, and he had come to realize that it was a one-of-a-lifetime experience: studying in the country of love. Admittedly he knew nothing of the culture or language besides basic French, but he figured he could learn it while in school.

It was a beautiful stay for the most part; the commons were suffused with weak academic light and a dustiness that reminded him of old libraries he would see in western films, and the professors and students were accommodating. It was fun but lonely until he managed to move from basic French to conversational French. Of course, there was a gaping gash in his heart the entire time, but he managed nonetheless.

Why couldn’t he have just studied in Korea like everyone else? And he had left during a cherished time of the year for the couple. Sangwoo was a prick, but now he was back to fix what he had screwed up while away, if that was even possible.

The dorm door opened, and there he was, Kijung. He took in the other’s angelic features, and relief washed over Sangwoo as he let out a minty breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. But, much to his dismay, he didn’t get the reaction he was hoping for. No smiles or Kijung jumping into a hug -- he just got his name, and it was said with sorrow…? It was disheartening, but what did he expect? If he was thinking realistically, he would’ve understood that his sudden action would force Kijung to relive their whole relationship; it would be like a freshly scabbed-over wound being ripped open with prying fingers. The cut being the elder’s heart and the hands being Sangwoo’s reckless behavior.

Who the fuck is that? Sangwoo looked over his ex-boyfriend and located some kid. He furrowed his brow with irritation, clearly unimpressed with whoever he was looking at, and looked away uninterested. The male had always struggled with jealousy and possessiveness and tended to be quite toxic -- it was remarkable how long their relationship lasted with his terrible behavior. He was comparable to wolf’s-bane, beautiful on the outside but incredibly poisonous on the inside. And, he couldn’t stand the fact that this kid had potentially taken his place in Kijung’s life. He only felt the heat rise in his neck when the guy -- what was his name? Byungho -- hugged his boyfriend.

He scoffed. The kid dared to bump into him on the way out. But rather than cause a scene, Sangwoo scorched holes into the back of his head and flared his nostrils. His features softened as Kijung’s sweet cadence met his eardrums and finally turned his attention back to the shorter. What was he doing there? He thought it was apparent. He clutched the flowers at his side, glancing down at them briefly before holding them out to his ex.

“What am I doing here?” He finally said, voice velvety and fluent as he marveled at the older. “Here to see you,” He answered the obvious, slyly, as he moved past Kijung to get into the dorm.

“You moved out of our apartment?” He asked, voice wilting momentarily to grief as his gum-chewing halted into a bitter pause. “Did you get rid of all our pictures and stuff? Ornaments, polaroids, the gifts I got you,” he listed as he looked around the dorm, occasionally picking up an object and turning it over in his fingers.

He stopped, finally. Clearing his throat and looking back toward his beloved, he said it, “Kijung, listen, I’m really sorry. I… I should’ve never done that to you.”

reveriee

© PASTA

 

[reveriee]

Even when everyone else was breaking up
I believed that we were special

~ lover, kevin oh

Shin Kijung

"What am I doing here? Here to see you."

The cadence of Sangwoo's voice -- sly, charming, and all too familiar -- was more of a slap in the face than anything he could have said. Kijung was suddenly and absurdly reminded of their first encounters in high school -- Shin Kijung with a stick up his ass and Lee Sangwoo, who thought the sun shone out of his. Clenched jaws from scathing remarks about Sangwoo's haughtiness bitten back -- before he knew it, haughty became hypnotic, and Kijung found himself sneaking half-hidden glances at the other boy and giving him too much time out of his day. Then came the days, years deep into their relationship, when Sangwoo would flash Kijung those charming, diamond-white smiles and murmur sly flirtations as if he was still trying to win him over. Kijung was reminded of six years worth of days, six years worth of memories, and that was all too much and all too painful.

"You moved out of our apartment?" The wilting smugness in Sangwoo's voice made Kijung wince in sympathy, then in bitterness at his own fragile resolve. "Did you get rid of all our pictures and stuff? Ornaments, polaroids, the gifts I got you."

Kijung's silence was response enough.

Truth was, Kijung never had the heart to get rid of any remnant of their relationship. Moving out of their old apartment was easy enough, but convincing himself to purge all traces of Sangwoo from his life only led to a three-week-long internal strife, in which he had holed himself up in his new dorm and questioned even the slightest minutia of his existence. But Shin Kijung was the same man who kept his middle school uniform for the memories, and after a near month of back-and-forth, he came to terms with his predictability. Thus, on that early February evening, he packed every single thing Sangwoo had given and owned into two cardboard boxes, carting them back to his family's apartment to hide them in the storage. He hadn't seen them since.

Maybe Kijung should've said something -- just to wipe the crushed expression off of Sangwoo's face. But bitter, bitter nostalgia glued his mouth shut -- if Sangwoo knew him well enough, after those six years of being together, then Kijung wouldn't have to say anything.

"Kijung, listen, I’m really sorry. I… I should’ve never done that to you."

The ensuing silence dragged on. Kijung didn't even know what to think, much less what to say. How could he convey the pressing pain Sangwoo left him in while he pranced off to France, leaving him behind like a fucking one night stand? Even more so, how could he express whatever the fuck he felt about Sangwoo's return -- something he didn't quite know himself? Kijung felt like he had broken the surface of roiling, upset waters, being given ten seconds to catch his breath before the riptide dragged him back into the deep. He pursed his lips.

"I think it's best you leave,"

Kijung said dully, dismissively. He looked at the pale patch of wall beside Sangwoo's head, unwilling to peer at those dark, familiar eyes.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

pasta

© PASTA

 

[pasta]

Yeah, I broke your heart like someone did to mine
And now you won't love me for a second time

Lee Sangwoo

The dull ache in his heart became vibrant and erratic as the words Sangwoo never wanted to hear left Kijung’s lips. How could a voice so angelic tear into his heart like that? His brows furrowed, his mouth fell agape, but nothing came out. He was expecting Kijung to waltz back into his arms and continue where they left off. As insane as it sounded, he didn’t think anything else would happen. His eyes finally broke away from Kijung as he allowed everything to soak in.

He didn’t want him there. He didn’t want him anymore. Was there someone else? It’s the only thing that could be behind this, at least that’s what Sangwoo thought. The real reason could slap him in the face, and he wouldn’t see it. They were perfect together, so why would Kijung want him to leave? His eyes cut to the floor, confused and pained as he tried to rack up some sort of explanation.

Did he have a place to stay? Short answer, no. Long answer, he could if he went back to his parents’ home, but he wouldn’t. They would only make things worse. If he had to deal with heartbreak, and his parents, he might go insane.

“I don’t understand,” he expressed bitterly. “And, no, I don’t have a place to stay. You sort of moved out of our apartment,” he sarcastically retorted. He didn’t mean to come off so vexed, but he was never the best at concealing his emotions.

The flowers in his hand were starting to irritate him -- they made him feel stupid. The pink was too bright, and there wasn’t enough foliage -- could you believe the arrangement was 100,000 won? -- and Kijung didn’t even want him. He tossed the bouquet carelessly on whatever available surface was around.

While in France, the only thing stopping him from experiencing heartbreak was the idea of him and Kijung getting back together when he returned. And, now it was rushing in all at once, and he had no clue what to do. Maybe Kijung just needed time to think before giving in. Perhaps this was all too sudden. Sangwoo couldn’t give up and let Kijung go to someone else. What if it was a woman? He couldn’t compete with that. He felt hot, uncomfortable even though the cool, dull winter air crept into the dorm.

“Is there someone else? A woman?” Ah, there it was, his insecurity creeping out. He sounded desperate and hurt. Sangwoo had always felt more threatened by women over men when it came to Kijung. “Or -- maybe that asshole that was just here?” He already had a bone to pick with that prick. He ran a hand through his hair. How could this be happening?

Sangwoo shouldn’t have gone abroad -- his plan was crumbling right beneath his feet, and he felt anger, sadness, and sickness all at once. He wasn’t angry at Kijung nor himself, but a fictitious person who was taking his boyfriend away.

reveriee

© PASTA