lawliet

I liked fixing things.

There's nothing that gives me so much joy when I bring the kids' old toy back to life— there were only so many to go around in the orphanage—or having the dishwasher start up again after the nuns had complained of it breaking down.

Felix was the guy who lived next door to me after I finally moved out of the orphanage (they'd seen me trying to help fix a kid's broken leg and decided it was better they take care of it and that I left). He was a funny guy, a decent one, except he was too difficult to read. He was a bright fellow, really. I guess I was naturally drawn to him because he saw the world in some light that I didn't. I figured that's what growing up an orphan feels like.

Felix didn't know anything about fixing things though.

"Chan," he'd call me in the middle of the day. "I'm really so sorry to bother but my car broke down this morning and the other neighbors said to take it to you before the shop, said the shop might rip me off or something. Would it be okay if I asked you to come down and take a look? I'll compensate, I swear."

"Nah, it's all good bro," I reassured him. "I'll head there right now."

Sometimes he'd call me for the simplest things like broken door knobs or a stuck sink. I'm happy to help, of course. I'm not really doing much. He treats me to pizza after. Sometimes we go to the movies. He buys me stuff, like the black hoodie I always wear to work. He's a sweet soul like that. I'd say we were close enough to be really good friends.

It was in the middle of the night when he called me up. It'd been raining so hard. At first I thought he was calling for a leak in the roof or something so I had answered with a very clipped tone. I didn't get much sleep.

"Yeah?"

"Chan, I know it's late but can you come over for a bit?"

His request wasn't anything weird, I've heard him say it a lot of times before, but his voice was. It sounded like it had been trembling. I'm pretty sure I heard sniffles through the other end. Of course, I jerked up and the sleep had bolted from my body.

"I'm on my way."

I arrive at his door in five minutes despite the pouring rain and the fact that I had to pull on a completely different set of clothes— I wasn't going to charge out into the storm in my pajamas. He answers the door quietly and motions me in.

He'd broken up with his boyfriend. I watched as he sat back down onto his sofa, nursing a glass of scotch. He motioned me to sit. Handed me a glass of my own.

"I don't know where it went wrong," he said after we drained the bottle and switched to gin. "We were so happy. I wish I knew where it started to go bad. Now I don't know how to fix things."

I stared at him for a good long minute, taking in everything. I noted his red eyes, his runny nose, the blotchiness on his cheeks. I digested every line of dried tears, the way his throat bobbed whenever he down the drink in his hand. He had been shaking so bad, the encore of endless sobbing before he must've come to his right mind and call me over.

He was right too.

He'd manage to fake it for a long time, behind those smiles and hugs. He was an expert, I'll give him that. A lot of things didn't know they needed help until they broke down, like a computer or a loose screw in the ceiling fan. His eyes had dulled, all the laughter burnt out of his lungs. He just sat there, dejected and mournful like the world had collapsed onto him.

Felix was broken, I realized. And there were so many things to fix.

The alcohol certainly made me woozy but not woozy enough for me to bend down in front of him and place a hand on his knee.

"You know..." I could hear the slur in my words. "I think you need something to help you."

He met my gaze with wide, teary eyes. "You think?"

I nodded at him, giving his knee a gentle squeeze. "Yes, Lix. I think you're a little broken inside. But that's okay. I'll get you fixed up in no time. You just need to trust me. Do you trust me?"

He kept his look on me, slowly nodding. I offer him a smile and ruffle the hair on his head.

"That's good," I told him. "I'll fix you up, no problem."

That's when I smash my glass on the side of his head and everything goes black.

—

"I'm not fucking around." The man in front of me slams his papers down on the table. His voice bounces across the cramped room. I flit my eyes from him to the mirror in front of me; to the possible more eyes behind them.

"He was your friend, wasn't he?" He wrenches his folder open and whips it to face me. "Why would you do this?"

I stare at Felix's photo in front of me. I shrug. Nothing's wrong with it. I don't understand why he's getting so worked up.

"For the last time, Chan." The man grits his teeth. "Why. Did. You. Do. It?"

I inhale through my nose and meet his eyes, my eyebrows shooting up in question. "He was broken, officer," I say. "I just fixed him up a bit."

"What the hell did you do to his face?"

I look back down at the photo. Felix is staring back at me, grinning from ear to ear. I can still see the lines that I drew on his face. The knife was a little dull but the jagged edges do become of him. He looks like Jack Skellington. He loved that movie.

I shrug again. "He was crying so bad. I just made him smile."

"And his eyes?" He shudders in front of me. I don't understand why. It's extremely hot in this cramped room.

"Oh those? I told you. He was crying so bad so they were so red. I wanted to clean them out and put them back but the stain wouldn't come off." The officer in front of me is backing away, shaking his head at me. I tilt my head at him. Did he want a simpler answer?

I shoot a glance back down at Felix's photo, at his dark eyes, or at least, the dark places where his eyes used to be... after I sewed the lids open since they always drooped over his face.

The hospital walls have always looked so dull. To say that I hated them was an understatement. Especially when the sickly, puke green walls of my room seem to loom over me each night that it suffocates every fiber of my being. There isn’t anything to see here, just white men in suits and lab gowns, nurses and their clipboards, and dying people.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. 

And neither should you.

“There’s a newbie,” Han had said once weeks ago over the breakfast table we had chosen to share since the first week we came in. I pick at my food, uninterested.

“You’re awfully excited,” Seungmin comments.

“You’re awfully boring,” Han snaps back. “It’ll be a nice change, to get see a new face. I’m sick and tired of my doctors going in and out of my room. And another FortNight player doesn’t sound so bad, yeah?”

It didn’t.

You moved in at the hall across from mine. The architecture of the building shaped it into a long H, and my room was directly across yours. I saw you come in that day, watched you through the glass of my windows while still in therapy. You had some lights strung up on the windows, blinking warm little spots that looked like stars and fireflies from the distance. I thought it was silly to decorate since being here meant you were probably on death row too. Your parents, though dejected to leave you there, eyed you with a great amount of passion. I was jealous for a second. My parents rarely visited. You looked happy—too happy— to be there, like an emanating ball of sunshine that just didn’t quite fit in.

I almost scoffed. This place isn’t one for sunshines. This place is a dark, cold, black hole. No light survives.

Except, maybe, you.

“Hi,” you greeted us. Your accent was thick, foreign. “I’m Felix.”

“Hyunjin,” I said, extending a hand to shake. We do. Your touch was warm, soft. It had been a while since I’ve felt something other than the needles and cold plastic pill bottles. It felt nice.

You sat with us at breakfast. You sat with us at lunch. You sat with us at dinner. It was awfully convenient to have Seungmin’s room so close to yours that we could freely move about the halls just to hang out. Of course, there wasn’t much to see but puke green walls and white suited men and nurses and dying people but we stuck together like glue and you blended in seamlessly with us; like it was meant to be.

I wanted you there. But not in just the way the others did. I never really was sure if you noticed the fleeting glances or the subtle nudges that I would throw your way. It never really came up in conversation nor did we try to push it any further. But your presence was addicting. The warmth was addicting. And it has been a while since I’ve felt like that. It felt nice.

The more you stuck around, the more radiant you became. And the more I looked at you, the more I felt that warm, sweater-fuzzy feeling in my chest that I am so, so addicted to.

But it seems the most radiant people also have the darkest shadows.

“What are you in for?” I asked you that night. We dared to venture to the rooftop when Han and Seungmin had decided to grab a few snacks from the kitchen downstairs. We wanted to prank them into a fright, but decided the air upstairs would be nicer and the view would look much better than shocked faces.

“Same as you,” you replied. You had trained your gaze upwards to the stairs, shutting one eye as you traced the belt of Orion with an index finger. “Stage four. The doctors don’t tell me but I know it’s only going to go down from here. I’m just sitting here, waiting.”

“I-I didn’t know,” I stammered. You didn’t seem weak. You had always looked so fun, so alive, so warm.

“It’s okay, mate,” you said, slinging an arm over my shoulder. I leaned into your touch, nestling my head on the crook of your neck into a half hug. This was normal here. Just two dying people comforting each other while waiting for the inevitable end.

“I reckon I’d still go earlier than you,” I half-joked. One could never truly tell, could they?

“Are you ready to?”

I tilted my head up to meet your eyes. Shrug.

“I was,” I confessed. “I mean, we’re like sitting ducks. We literally don’t know when it’s gonna hit, or how painful it’s gonna be. I think I’ve thought about it so much for so many nights that I’ve just gotten tired of wondering and just accepting the fact that I’m gonna go. But now…” I hesitate. My lip curls into the inside of my mouth.

“But now?” you prodded. Were you really going to make me say it?

“Well, now I’m not sure I want to. Not yet.” 

I held your gaze. It opened up the weight of vulnerability for me but I didn’t really mind. It was a new kind of weakness. It was the kind of weakness that I wanted there. It was the kind that couldn’t be cured by chemo, or by drugs, or any kind of surgery. It was the kind of weakness that I brought upon myself and the kind that I allowed myself to fester and grow until it became more powerful than the cancer; even more powerful than myself.

“Tell me something,” you suddenly said. It was so out of nowhere that it took me a few seconds to digest. “Come on. Tell me something about you. Something you’ve never told anyone.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s the point? I’m already an open book.”

“I don’t care,” you said. “Tell me something. Anything. Like introduce yourself again. Your name, age, what you like to do, stuff like that. But also make it into the things you want to do if you weren’t locked up in here.” When I looked at you with that face you make when you can’t believe what the other person is saying, you only made those puppy dog eyes of yours and whined a long “please.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wishing stars,” you said. “The universe might hear and give us a shot.”

“Fine,” I conceded, clearing my throat. “Hi,” I began. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin. I’m twenty-one. I like to dance. I’d like to graduate. I’d probably go to a performing school and study music. Or I’d be an interior decorator because why not?” You laughed at that. “And I’d also like a dog. I’d probably name it Kkami.”

“Why Kkami?” you asked. I swatted you away. 

“Just because I can.” I nod towards you. “Your turn.”

“Okay.” You rubbed your tiny hands together like you were so nervous and I laughed. Our breathes formed nice little clouds in the air. I shrugged my coat and hung it over the both of us. You grinned your thanks.

“Hello. I’m Felix. I’m twenty-one, surprise surprise. I like to dance and play games. I like dogs too, but my parents probably won’t let me have one until I move out of their place. I want to keep dancing too, and like, touch people with my dance. I might want to be a professional gamer or like an artist.” You paused. Moved your head to look at me.

“I’d be taking you out, and we’d find the perfect Kkami, and eat a lot. I actually know a really great pork belly place just around the corner of this hospital and we could take Han and Seungmin. Or it could also be just the two of us.” Your eyes had trained upward, towards the stars again. I couldn’t speak, nor move. I could only watch you. Listen to you. And to my heart that was beating so hard against my chest.

“I’d love to watch the stars with you, and curl up with you like this on the cold nights. I’d probably get you Americano in the morning because you wake up way later than me. And I would have wanted to fall asleep to you playing with my hair because it feels so calming. I’d probably spend the rest of my life loving you.”

“Felix—” My throat is dry when I find my voice.

“I don’t know when,” you told me. “I don’t know how, but somewhere, between the little memories over the very little time, I think this is the most I’ve felt human. And as cheesy as it could sound, I’ve only ever felt like that around you.”

“Felix—”

“Let’s make a swear then,” you kept cutting me off. You held out a pinky. “Let’s promise each other to ride out our dreams. To the best we can. No matter what. For ourselves and for each other.” My eyes glued to your little finger. I found myself wrapping mine around it. The smile on your face was brilliant—it was blinding—but even if I were to go blind staring at it, I would still do.

You were quick. You had pulled me closer, resting your forehead on mine. I could feel your breath against my face, could hear the pounding of your heart in sync with mine. The reality of the world collapsed over us like a tidal wave. There was a clock in the back of my mind and no matter what I did, it would not stop ticking down.

“Always find me,” you whispered. I felt your lips against the top of my head. So soft, so featherlight. The side of your finger comes up to my chin. You push my head—my eyes up at the twinkling little lights in the distance. “No matter where we are, or what we might be doing, don’t forget we’ll always be under the same sky.”

—

They cleared out your room two days later.

I can still feel the ache in my chest, even now when so many years have passed. The first few weeks felt like absolute hell. It all passed as a blur, Seungmin said I was inconsolable. There are days that I still feel like that, probably because I know that you’re a part of myself that I’m not going to let go. The pain is here, but so is the warmth, and so is the love that is so much stronger than the pain.

I’m about to go up now.

The crowd is crazy tonight. But I’m here, finally, Felix. I’m writing this letter to get all of this off my chest because tonight marks my debut. Somewhere in the crowd will be my folks and our little Kkami. I’ve yet to register her with a collar. I’ve been too busy with practices. I can’t wait to see the proud looks on our parents' faces. I’ll be looking for them.

My diploma also came in today. There’s a little celebration. I thought I’d bring Han and Seung too, at that pork belly place you said you liked. Han is flourishing as a rapper now and Seung is about to make the biggest break as the group’s main vocal. They’re both so talented, you should see them eating up the stage even on practices. You’d be so proud of them too.

I’ll also be looking for you. In those lights and the sea of people, in the wave of lights that look so much like the ones you used to hang outside your window, I’ll be looking for you. And up in the heavens and in the universe, I’ll look at you, still tracing Orion with your finger with the biggest, stupidest, sunshine smile on your face.

And I’ll tell you. Because I know, somehow, you’d still hear me and that the universe wouldn’t be so unfair as to not let me say this.

I’ll tell you, Felix.

I have kept my promise.

We made it.

—

When my brother was five, he started going to kindergarten. He held my hand in a vice-grip all the way there. He cried when I left. I came back in a rush.

"I'm here, little guy," I told him, wiping his tears. "I'm not leaving."

The teacher would give me looks for missing my own classes during the first few days but Ni-ki would run to my table at the back after every activity and show me his work with a proud smile. That made everything worth it.

I bought him a picture book to help him start reading. He'd never want to put Peter Pan down.

—

When my brother was seven, he began to play with guns and swords. He'd pretend he was Peter and I was Wendy. He'd playfight and I'd be rescued from the evil Captain Hook. Mother would laugh, teasing that he was short. He'd sulk for being little, but never for too long.

"I'll grow up!" he'd declare. "Just you wait and see."

"But if you grow up, you won't be able to play Peter Pan with me," I play pouted at him. He pursed his lips in thought for a moment before grinning.

"Then I won't grow up. I'll just grow bigger!"

—

When my brother was ten, he took an interest in art. He'd paint in my room while I curled up with a book. He had a sketchbook of my portraits. I still keep them.

"These are impressive, Ni-ki!" I'd tell him. He'd have the widest, goofiest grin on his face before diving down onto the bed next to me just to snuggle while I look at his works.

"I tried using charcoal for this one," he told me. "But I couldn't really get the shading right. I think I can do better. Your hair's a little long to be like Wendy's too. Maybe you should cut it?"

I laughed, staring at the picture. It's still one of my favorite works of his.

—

When my brother was eleven, our dad died of suicide. Mother married a drunk but he didn't understand that yet. When he hits him, he crawls into my bed right next to me.

"Hush, little guy," I whispered to him. "It's all going to be okay."

"Why did dad have to die?" he'd weep onto my pillow. He didn't understand death yet, nor grief, so I just hold him and stroke his hair. I couldn't tell him.

"When you're grow up, you'll understand."

He looks up at me with bloodshot eyes and says: "I don't want to ever grow up. I don't want to understand."

—

When my brother was thirteen, he got picked on a lot. They called him an orphan with no dad and pushed him onto the sidewalk. I caught him just before he got into a fight. We changed schools right after.

"This year, it'll be different," I told him. He shrugs and pulls his backpack tighter on his shoulder. He strides through the front door without another word and my heart clenches.

"I just want to be like a lost boy," he muttered. "No rules, no expectations."

—

When my brother was fifteen, girls took an interest in him. He was taller than most of the kids in his class and had gotten Father's good looks. "Don't worry," he told me. "I'm still your little guy."

"That's easy for you to say," I answered. "You're already taller than me. I'm actually kinda jealous."

"Don't be. I'm don't want to think about that stuff yet. It's still so much fun being a kid. Speaking of which, I did a new Neverland painting this morning. Wanna see?"

—

When my brother was sixteen he came home late, sketchbook in hand. Drunk Stepfather wanted to know where he went. He ignored him; took a punch or two until I finally stepped in. Ni-ki stormed into his room and I followed him.

"I know why dad died," he surprised me by saying. "I wish I didn't. I wish I was back to being a kid, when I didn't know anything." I embraced him because that's all I can do.

Late at night we awoke to screaming. It's Drunk Stepfather and Useless Mother fighting. He had her pinned down and he was lifting her skirt on the kitchen table. I pulled Ni-ki away immediately. He asked what's happening but I didn't respond. If I did, he'd grow up some more and that's not what he wanted.

I waited for the screaming to stop. I waited until the master's bedroom door shuts. I waited some more.

And then I tiptoed into the hall.

There is a cure, says Peter Pan, to growing up: Neverland. The second star to the right and straight on till morning. I leaned against the kitchen sink after getting my glass of water. The moon illuminated the small countertop, casting a shadow over my face. I fix my eyes on the twinkling in the distance.

Second star to the right.

I reached for the star, watching its light flicker between the passing of my fingers. I retreated back to bed. To Ni-ki's room. He needed his older sister that night.

And straight on till morning.

I awoke again to Useless Mother's screaming. Drunk Stepfather stumbled back in the doorway. I rubbed my eyes, adjusting. Flowers had bloomed all over the room, red roses and peonies and tulips across the floor and the walls in beautiful intricate vines.

"How-how could you?!" Useless Mother was staring at me, face paler than the white of my nightdress. Oh, it wasn't white anymore. There were roses and peonies on it too.

I looked down at the star in my hand, watching it glitter under the soft sun's rays. Ni-ki was still asleep beside me despite all the noise. That's okay. Peter Pan says the children fly to Neverland in their sleep so the pixie dust doesn't break. I'll let him sleep some more.

I raised the star to my lips, shushing Useless Mother and Drunk Stepfather. "Don't make a sound," I said, stroking Ni-ki's hair with my fingers. "He's on his way to Neverland. He didn't want to grow up so I took him there."

—

When my brother was sixteen.